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FOURSQUARE 

AND 

FULLORBED 



BY ISAAC STEPHEN SMITH, A.M., 

Author of The Bells of Is, Random Rhymes, A Literary 
Excursion, Progress of the Modern Pilgrim, etc. 



Part One 

OBSERVATIONS IN LIFE -REALMS 
REMINISCENCES AND REFLECTIONS. 

Part Two 
A TOUR OF GOD'S REAL FAIRYLAND. 

RAMBLES SERIES NO. 1. 



Boston 

The Roxburgh Publishing Company 

Inc. 






m 13 1917 



'GI,A470671 
"K-t,. I, 



Copyrighted 1917 

By ISAAC S. SMITH 

Rights Reserved 




PREFACE 



VISION fair of life foursquare. 

Development full-orbed ; 
Delightful tour, in which, as your 
Attention is absorbed, 
The sail unfurls ; all growing worlds 

Observe as on you go; 
Life at the helm, each living realm 
Behold 'tis yours to know. 

To Fancy yield and roam afield 

Through scenes of larger life. 
More life the goal, as shuts the soul 

To sound of present strife; 
Old harps are hung whose cords were strung by 
those who sung 

At thought's first dawn; 

And guides of ages, with seers and sages of modern 
pages. 

Allure us on; 
Strange paths may greet our pilgrim feet, 

Strange seas await our sails; 
On through the light — or darkest night 

Where every pilot fails. 



FOURSQUARE 

AND 
FULL ORBED. 



BON VOYAGE. 

Go forth, my little friend, go forth ; 

May men appraise thee at thy worth ; 

But if they choose to pass thee by, 

Or look with harsh, unfriendly eye, 

Indifferent or scornfully — 

If moles or owls refuse to see^ — 

Can either hide thee from my sight, 

Or rob me of the pure delight 

Which I have felt in touch with thee? 

In lonelier hours my company, 

In brighter days my closest friend — 

I'll follow thee unto the end. 

If any questioner should ask 

How I began my pleasant task, 

Or call upon thee to decide 

What principles have been my guide. 

Perhaps it may not be amiss 

To answer him or her, like this : 

For many moons I have been about 

To dress thee up and send thee out 

Thy fame — or funeral — to win ; 

But many hindrances have been ; 

Absorbing duties often came 

Between me and my fondest aim ; 

And often not a single line 

Contributing to thy design, 

For weeks appeared, amidst the toil, 

That took the time, but could not foil 

Or shake the purpose of a mind 

In which a peace of different kind 



lo FOURSQUARE 

And different degree, did live, 

Than other interests could give 

Or take away. And now I seize 

First opportunity to please — 

Please thee, perchance thy patrons too. 

By clothing thee, as others do 

Their wards or waifs, with warp and woof 

Of words wrought into vesture, proof 

Against the suns and storms of earth ; 

In fitting garb I'd send thee forth. 

Use decorations in thy reach. 

Good illustrations help to teach ; 

If thou shouldst find a small bouquet, 

A flower, dropped or thrown away 

By careless hand, give it a place ; 

Refresh, and put it in thy vase'. 

In thine own manner, knowledge state 

Which centuries accumulate; 

A story tell, the simplest and 

The most unlearned can understand. 

Though not exhaustive be thy scope, 

Nor specially erudite, I hope, 

Thy message, it will be discerned. 

Has value even to the learned. 

So with this double aim in view. 

Inform or please thy chosen few; 

Lead if thou canst away from fear 

To stronger faith and better cheer ; 

Away from doubt and foolish strife 

To loftier thought and larger life; 

This by suggestion thou must do; 

And now, my little friend, adieu. 



AND FULL-ORBED ii 

LIFE FOURSQUARE. 

Thus life foursquare is typified: 
A city walled on every side 
With jasper, emerald and beryl; 
It has three gates upon each side, 
And all of them are open wide, 
And every several gate a pearl. 

The physical comes first in view; 
Then other sides as real and true. 
From nearest dust to distant star; 
The cradle where known life begins, 
The field where life its prizes wins, 
On to the crossing of the bar. 

The second is the social side ; 
About us throngs the human tide 
As omnipresent as the air; 
Demands and duties manifold, 
Complex relations, joys untold, 
And welcomes greet us everywhere. 

The intellectual comes next, 
If possible still more complex. 
And with a greeting still more free ; 
All of its doors are doors of hope, 
Its avenues stretch to the slope 
Of the unfathomed, boundless sea. 

The spiritual extends on high, 
Its jeweled turrets touch the sky. 
At last when earthly ties are riven, 
We hope, upon a fairer shore 
To enter, and go out no more — 
To find the higher life in heaven. 



12 FOURSQUARE 



THE HAND-WRITING OF NATURE. 

All nature spreads before us as a scroll. 
Whose mind conceived it and whose mighty pen 
Did write its myriad letters? Whose the hand 
That formed Arcturus, fixed the Pleiades, 
Arched the bow, and sent the brilliant shaft 
From blackest quiver? What unseen artist's 

brush 
Did paint the colors of the ocean shell, 
And trace the outlines of the leaves and flowers. 
In wild primeval forest void of man? 
Behold the beauty' — whence its origin? 

An orchard covered with its snow of bloom ; 
A grapevine with its trailing branch and fruit 
In dark rich clusters hanging motionless 
In still autumnal air ; the crystal boughs, 
The winter forest's smooth white carpet, and 
The glittering pendants shining overhead ; 
The fields of waving wheat and Indian maize — 
Whence all this loveliness? Could not the grain 
And snow and fruit have been less beautiful? 
Why is it that they touch, uplift and thrill? 

Behold the forces that encircle Earth, 
Build rocks and soil into a solid mass. 
And hurry waves and currents in their flow, 
Submerging islands, and vast continents 
Upheaving ; driving clouds in flocks and herds. 
And marshaling the stars in journeying hosts — 
Is there somewhere a force perpetual, 



AND FULL-ORBED 13 

A fountain of all force, a power unknown — 

Or rather known, a great reality, 

Whose glory gleams in lingering sunset hues? 

Why palter questions of horizons dim? 
Approach and read the answer in the books, 
For do they not reveal the origin? 
Long were these records hid, the books were 

sealed. 
But now their open pages may be read, 
Which tell the story of creation's dawn; 
Do they disclose the origin of life? 
By unskilled eyes their hieroglyphics may 
Be wrongly read, or misinterpreted. 
But ne'er the records do belie the truth. 

What marvelous truths before our eyes are 

spread ! 
Colossal revelations here are made ; 
Bewildering facts of systems, forests, trees, 
Of which the earth is but a tiny leaf. 
Six thousand years, by geologic time, 
Is in the march of ages but a pause 
Almost unnoticed ; earth itself a babe 
Among the giants of the universe. 
Yon queen of night is but a satellite, 
Obedient to the will of mother earth. 

But yonder orb, the mighty king of day. 
Robed in his brightness of eternal fires. 
Compels our earth her journey to pursue 
With half a dozen stars for company, 



14 FOURSQUARE 

Around his great — his wide extended realm; 
They ne'er diverge from their appointed paths; 
Are ne'er behind and ne'er ahead of time; 
And they possess that force by earth displayed 
Which lifts low things too high, turns rocks to 

soil, 
And soil to trees, and trees to fruit and flowers. 

There is the planet Mars, the ruddy globe 
Whose poles, like Earth's, are white with snow ; 

whose zones 
Are dotted o'er with seas and continents. 
And there is Venus ; little Mercury ; 
And Jupiter, the champion of the skies 
Belted and sashed with vapors and with clouds; 
And Saturn haloed with three bands of light 
And crowned and jeweled with eight ruddy 

moons ; 
Uranus speeding on her tireless way. 
While Neptune's orbit cuts the outer rim : — 

Upon her lonely pathway Neptune walks 
The cold and gloomy solitudes of space ; 
Out far beyond these planets and their sun 
Are other suns of glory, other worlds, 
That are examples of tremendous power, 
All perfectly controlled. To light these worlds 
Are double, triple and quadruple suns. 
Of various colors, mingling gorgeous hues 
And flaming like archangels in the sky. 
What myriads of mighty suns are seen ! 



AND FULL-ORBED 15 

In milky way's pale zone, in regions vast 

Of over-arching skies, the worlds are strewn 

Like golden dust upon the floor of space. 

What beauteous forms among those fields of 

light! 
Eclipses, circles, crowns and spiral wreaths! 
Are there no sails upon their summer seas? 
No wings to cleave their crystal atmosphere? 
No forms divine to walk their radiant shores? 
No hearts to share with ours the love which 

holds 
These orbs in place? The Universe a dream? 

There radiant Venus sings to listening stars, 
And redly burns the sanguine light of Mars ; 
The torch of Sirius trails Orion's flight, 
And vestal Vega walks the path of night. 
Eternal, infinite, through voids of space 
These suns and worlds keep their appointed 

place. 
Faith is inwrought by dawn of amber light — 
No sunsets there ; no shadows of the night — 
Where earthly love touched by a hand divine, 
May fadeless bloom in fields of endless time. 

A record scarcely fit for human thought 
Is that which tells the story wonderful — 
The building up of all these suns and worlds. 
In Aeons past they formed a burning mass 
That filled the space all systems occupy. 
This rare and blazing mass went whirling round 



i6 FOURSQUARE 

The mass contracted and huge discs flew off, 
Which in their turn contracted; planets formed; 
Ascending steams condensed and fell in showers, 
Enriched the soil and made it fit for life. 

A veil of grass and flowers hides from view 
The records clearly writ upon Earth's face ; 
Where mountains tower above the verdure line, 
The record lies beneath a veil of snow. 
For ages man had been content to let 
The veil remain, nor ask what lay beneath. 
Where'er the veil uplifts surprise awaits ! 
Vast records, one above another, lie 
Of varied form and meaning; some are deep; 
But none of them were here when earth was 
formed. 

Three rocks we see whose substance and whose 

shape 
Are varied; each tells its history. 
The free-stone rock is sedimentary ; 
And it but represents a numerous class. 
Countless ages had gone by since it 
Was sand and mud upon the mountain-side ; 
Then water washed it down, and into stone 
'Twas hardened by the heavy tread of time ; 
Imprisoned in this free-stone's firm embrace 
Are plants and animals to fossils turned. 

Here is a lime-stone rock, a lump of chalk, 

And by its side a little piece of coal ; 

Long since, these rocks were animals and plants. 



AND FULL-ORBED 17 

The chalk was found within a mountain range — 
'Twas once a mass of shells beneath the sea; 
The coal in tree or fern or plant once stood 
And waved its foliage beneath the sun ; 
'Twas found beneath the surface of the earth, 
A thousand feet, 'neath other rocks since formed ; 
Thus animals and plants, though dead, yet speak. 

A deeper record still, if we but look. 
Is in this granite; 'tis an igneous rock; 
'Twas once a burning mass deep in the earth ; 
With lurid flame volcano belched it forth; 
When cooled it hardened into solid stone. 
Though rocks have histories that reach beyond 
All human records, opening to the mind 
Vistas of time that dizzy human thought, 
Yet long ere rocks their histories began, 
Earth teemed with life, but not the varied forms. 

Not then the many forms that now exist ; 

Infinite species from the few have grown. 

Production far exceeds the room allowed 

In struggling for existence, life improves ; 

While strength does kill off weakness, fit survives. 

We see a gradual ascent in life ; 

Dead matter now is never made to live 

Nor inorganic to organic changed ; 

No plant into an animal is turned; 

No animal becomes a "living soul." 

Creation's work is done, Creation rests; 
But life and growth from infancy to age. 
From form to form and up through many a stage, 



i8 FOURSQUARE 

Do still go on in e'er ascending scale. 
A mighty secret thus has been disclosed : 
Creation finds delight, and aid, in growth. 
Still mystic draperies surround the life 
Of lowliest thing or loftiest, whatever 
The form may be, however manifest — 
Amoeba, insect, man — to deity. 

In cells life has its fundamental base. 
Minute and living centers — or from these 
Is life, to human view, made manifest. 
Each individual cell has life distinct 
From other cells ; each lives its life alone. 
Surrounded by a host of fellow cells. 
The world itself is thus composed of parts 
Minute, mobile, innumerable, distinct. 
These atoms group themselves along the line 
Of their affinities ; variety results. 

The atoms come and go, but do not die; 
And life thus organized, had lived before; 
Regardless of its organism lives on; 
Spontaneous generation ne'er occurs; 
Spontaneous life is nowhere to be seen. 
From simplest form to its maturity, 
Life is a marvelous reality, 
Whose being, origin, and growth require 
Its structure to design and superintend, 
A Master-Builder and an Architect. 

TLet those who teach that men from apes arose, 
With courage trace the origin of those 
^ack through their various links of law and 
force. 



AND FULL-ORBED 19 

Through frogs, insects and protoplasm — of 

course, 
Ay, farther back and lower still they must 
Go far below the level of the dust, 
To nothingness, and show us if they can 
Our ancestor: The origin of man! 
How pitiable, how laughable, or worse, 
Are plans to push God from the universe! 

God may be seen in wide-extended plain; 
Where dark green fields contentedly have lain ; 
And where tall cliffs have challenged every 

storm. 
His voice is heard out on the heavy deep ; 
When waves are lying on the sand asleep ; 
Or summoned by the tempest's fierce alarm. 
We've felt his presence in the forest shade ; 
The solemn grandeur of each tree which made 
His name to wave on high in plumes of green — 
The omnipresent Deity is seen. 

We have observed him in the open sky, 
That seemed to bring his habitation nigh; 
The tented dome, the vault of heavenly blue. 
And we have read in rolling orbs of light. 
His name transcribed in letters clearly bright 
Upon each brilliant star that sparkles through. 
For every fire that comes from blazing sun, 
And every star that walks the night alone, 
Were first enkindled at his burning throne ; 
Yes, God is here ; his presence all have known. 



20 FOURSQUARE 

Ah ! who can search with microscope and knife 

For limits of infinitesimal life 

But sees in Nature's most minute design 

The signature and stamp of power divine; 

Contrivance intricate expressed with ease 

Where unassisted sight no beauty sees ; 

The shapely limb, the lubricated joint, 

Within the small dimensions of a point ; 

Muscle and nerve miraculously spun; 

His mighty work who speaks and it is done! 

The flowers seem hidden links of some fair 

sphere 
Whose hues and fragrance, spells of love, now 

cheer 
And thrill and beautify the world of men. 
O'er desert sands, on mountain heights, and e'en 
In ocean depths plant life is blossoming; 
The long reeds balanced by the ripples swing. 
And sea-plants raise their crowns of green and 

gold. 
Bright tawny sea-weeds living jewels hold. 
And mosses brown and golden, cling to stones 
That seemed designed for water brides, or 

thrones. 

On land, in friendly zone, this form of life 

Appears in all its wealth of beauty rife; 

What lessons deep and true are learned from 

them ! 
The rugged bark which clothes the oak ; the vein 
Which intersects the leaf; the sprouting weed; 



AND FULL-ORBED 21 

The tint of flower ; the ripening fruit ; the seed 

By which the miracle of life goes on, 

Are revelations to the mind of man. 

Likewise the myriads of creatures that 

Not only live, but move and breathe and think. 

When naught was heard along the blossomed lea, 
To join his music, save the listless bee, 
A piping grasshopper was heard to say : 
"See all but man with unearned pleasure gay !" 
"Behold, ye pilgrims of the earth, behold! 
See her bright robes the butterfly unfold ; 
What youthful bride can equal her array? 
From mead to mead with gentle wings to stray, 
From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly. 
Who can with her for ease and pleasure vie?" 

The mocking bird rings out his song of yearning. 
That speaks of exile gone and home returning; 
The red-bird too joins in with notes of gladness. 
And martins dash — all merry unto madness ; 
The scissor-tails their former haunts reviewing. 
Are in a cheery mood, old times renewing; 
And high above the wild geese nothward flying. 
Are on the strength of Providence relying. 
To guide through space to where their nests are 

waiting, 
Their reed-bound haven — land of love and mating. 

The whippoorwill calls when the night is fall- 
ing— 
His ghostly voice to lovers so enthralling; 
The robin-redbreast, busy in his questing 



^2 FOURSQUARE 

For food, while in his journey he is resting; 

And all the other birds, in happy voices. 

Select their homes with satisfying choices. 

The mind that guides each wing that cleaves the 
ether 

And makes it seek the lake or mountain-heather. 

Will guide our souls through reaches bright, su- 
pernal, 

Beyond the pale of death, to life eternal. 

Earth has vast solitudes, unpeopled yet. 
Save by the peaceful life of bird and flower. 
Where, since the world's foundation, hath been 

set 
The hidings of mysterious mighty power. 
Year after year the rains make fresh and green 
Broad prairies, where, as daylight comes and 

goes, 
Legions of bright-hued blossoms all unseen. 
Their carven petals open but to close. 
Year after year unnumbered forest leaves 
Expand, and each its destiny achieves. 

Where the perpetual mountains patient wait. 
Girded with purity about the throne. 
Keeping from age to age inviolate 
The ever-changing, everlasting crown ; 
Where the long-gathered waves of ocean break 
With ceaseless music o'er untrodden strands, 
From isles that day by day in silence wake, 
And vast interiors of remotest lands. 
Fixed by decree immutable and calm, 
God's praise is chanted in unheeded psalm. 



AND FULL-ORBED 23 



OUR LIFE; WHAT IS IT? 

O life ! O grand and comprehensive word, em- 
bracing everything we've seen or heard from 
cradle to the grave, all that occurs ; the sum and 
substance, range and scope and sphere of our 
existence ; infancy's fresh page, the burden and 
the heat of day, and age ! 

Life is a story writ in volumes three : the Past, 
the Present and the Yet-to-be ; the first is fin- 
ished and is laid away; the second we are read- 
ing day by day ; the third, and last one of the 
volumes three, is locked from sight and hidden 
is the key. 

Life is a problem ; 'tis despair or bliss which- 
ever we make of it, a hit or miss. Who knows its 
trend, as hand in hand with death it walks, from 
birth until the latest breath? We can but plod 
and make the best of it, and calmly wait to know^ 
the rest of it. 

Chained to the earth by law of gravity, more 
subtle forces shape the tendency of mind ; crea- 
tures of circumstances, we seem powerless en- 
tirely to be, or do, as we would like ; and still we 
know we're subject to the law, obedience owe. 

We learn that ignorance of laws does not re- 
lease us from their penalties a jot. The trial oft 
when standing in the flame of daily effort's hard ; 
and yet to blame are they who are forgetful of 
the fact that death leaves conscious being still 
initact. 



24 FOURSQUARE 

How many seek the end, and think life ended 
when function of the body is suspended, by their 
own hand! Forth from the great Unseen we 
came, and to that source we go. Serene should 
we await the end, nor fear to die — to die? Per- 
chance to live eternally! 

Life is the center of activities; wide is the 
range of man's proclivities, but duty is three- 
fold: to God, to man, to self; if duty to oneself 
has been performed, the powers developed and 
conserved, one's Maker and his fellowmen are 
served. 

Life is a call continuous and strong to duty. 
Opportunities belong to life ; they hover over the 
cradle, and the glory of performances attend the 
bier; else their omission shades the light that 
should have shown upon us day and night. 

Each plant, each animal, has in God's plan 
■some function to perform — likewise each man; 
each has some faculty which may be used for 
!good of all and should not be refused ; each part 
is necessary to convey the universal order of the 
play. 

Life is a drama ; the green earth its boards, its 
curtains the blue sky, and it affords innumerable 
foot-lights, the stars of heaven. In strains of 
mingled grief and joy is given its music; men 
and women play in sight of spectators, the first- 
Born sons of light. 



AND FULL-ORBED 25 



THE CROWDED SCENES OF HUMAN 

LIFE 

Romance belongs to places out of town. 
The poets babble of green fields and woods, 
And wake to sweet influence of the muse, 
Beneath the towering mountain, or beside 
The purling brook, or on the merry marge 
Of ocean's laughter of unnumbered waves 
That flash and sparkle 'neath the moon's soft 

glow. 
No music of the winds is heard among 
The chimneys or upon the slated roofs. 
'Tis listened for when whispering in trees : — 

Wind's thunderous base is trembled at amid 

The rocky wildness of the yawning gulch. 

Wealth is the city's god, and poverty 

Its demon ; vulgar and despicable 

Are both. While straightness may be picturesque 

In cottage scene of lowly hamlet life, 

And wealth breathe with romance when seen 

through trees 
That fringe the spreading parks and velvet 

lawns 
Of lordly mansion, yet where is the art 
To gild the squalor of the tenement? 

What art can save from mere pretentiousness 
The glare of brazen pride of city pOmp? 
An inspiration steals into the soul 
While standing on some lofty mountain top ; 



26 FOURSQUARE 

An awe fills him who in the twilight hour 
Creeps to the verge of deep and bosky wood; 
The spirit wakes to praise with rising sun 
And song of birds in the adjacent grove. 
Amid the busy scenes of city life, 
These instincts rest in slumber's deep repose 

The roar of vehicles, the hurrying push 

Of driving crowds, the closed and fastened door. 

The glance that meets the stranger's eye, that 

blends 
The superciliousness of contempt with 
The half suspicioned watchfulness ; the quick 
Response, the self-content of those at ease. 
The beggars' helplessness — these all conspire 
To make the careless feel, more deeply than 
The poet's lines portray, that city walls 
Destroy all that is best in human life. 

But one, not city borni — but city taught. 

Would venture here a difiFerent tale to tell; 

Would strive at least to catch another tone, 

And show that most of what is best in man 

May not be claimed where human life is rare. 

Where Nature is in the majority. 

The seats of occupation e'er have been 

The crowded centers of activity 

And human progress, and remain fgr aye 

The noblest chapters of man's history. 

From lofty roof or elevated spot. 
Behold the long streets stretch on every hand. 
Along which press the crowds, diminishing 
To size of insects ; public buildings lie 



AND FULL-ORBED 27 

Along the avenues of travel. Here 

And there a spire points upward to the skies 

Reminding man of immortality. 

Behold the prospect, the variety ! 

Within the city's limits how diverse 

Are the conditions ! What extremes are here ! 

How opposites are blended, unlikes meet! 
A scene of ceaseless interest and change, 
A book for study, field for work, and food 
For meditation, lies before the gaze. 
Thousands of children are at play in streets 
And squares and parks ; in happy nurseries 
Where wealth has lavished every aid to joy 
Of childhood ; and in gutters even, where 
A careless childhood finds in streets and stones 
And mud, the object of employment. 

What happy troops of youths and maidens fair 

There are within, emerging into life 

And feeling all its hopeful, bounding joy ! 

In many a house a wedding party meets 

To gather round the bright expectancy 

Of two fond hearts that fare together forth 

Upon that journey, strewn, first steps at least 

With roses; through whose portals troop delights. 

The cry of infancy is heard in homes 

Made joyous with the miracle of birth. 

Delights, which found wherever man has trod. 

Are gathered all into a multitude 

Amid the crowded city's teeming life. 

But gleams of sunshine lying thick o'er life 



28 FOURSQUARE 

In city walls have shadows interspersed, 
Deep shadows that rise up and downward beat, 
With darkened wings, the joyous light of day. 
To walk the streets and look into the face 
Of many a man and woman brings a strange 
And melancholy feeling to the heart. 

The countenance of one is lined with care ; 
The eyes look out above dark bands, and 'neath 
The drawn and seamed brows ; the lips are set 
With stern determination, as if fate 
Were to be met although the meeting does 
Involve the breaking of the heart, or death. 
There walks, in weeds, the sable mourner; there 
The outcast goes ; another, weak, dismayed 
And overcome, despairing of the end — 
How many aching heads and bleeding hearts! 

Death in one house and sickness in the next; 
Across the street is ruin ; shame and vice 
And degradation not a hundred yards 
Away ; disease and poverty hold carnival 
With crime, and revel high in many a room. 
The roar of city-life that sounded like 
The gay outcry of youth, now seems a wail, 
A sob, a malediction, and a groan ; 
For o'er the city's splendor hangs a mist 
As dark and heavy as a funeral pall. 

Ten thousand lights send up a lurid glare; 
The darkness is unpierced ; the beams fall back 
In broken light upon the saddened heart. 
Not other than the darkness of the pit 



AND FULL-ORBED 2g 

Made visible. And often to escape 
The burden of despair have spirits rushed — 
Spirits too sensitive have madly rushed — 
From focused horrors to the silent stream. 
What are these griefs but sign and consequence 
Of wrongs that find in city-v^alls their home? 

Though nature's fairest scenes seclude 

The worst and basest forms of human life, 

These forms collect and multiply and thrive 

Among the city's multitudes. What lies 

And base deceptions, self-indulgences 

And freaks of passion, are enclosed, with lust, 

Outbreaks of violence and cruelty. 

Within the city's boundaries. Here thieves 

And burglars, prostitutes and drunkards are, 

With murderers, in numbers to be found. 

Each bolt upon the door, each guardian 

Of innocence, each weapon of defense, 

Each officer, a testimony bears 

To wickedness and shame of city life. 

Yet — goodness here as nowhere else appears. 

Embracing as the sapphire sky which sweeps 

Around the earth and holds it on its breast. 

Look at yon building rising high above 

The edifices round ; in it are stores 

Of wealth, the products of a thousand climes. 

There truth and honesty, fidelity 

And trust, are active proving virtue's power. 

Evoking confidence. Down yonder street 



30 FOURSQUARE 

Ten thousand human beings pour, intent 
On duty and secure in its discharge. 
There stands an edifice where generous skill 
And science of trained minds, and charity, 
The affluent gifts of sympathetic hearts, 
Combine against the power of misery — 
In many instances o'ercoming it. 
Unroof the city and its sin appears ; 

Likewise its sorrow ; but, also — a scene 

Of virtue, peace and family piety: 

The little circles gathered round the board 

Hospitable, are met for intercourse 

Religious, social, literary here. 

And here is strong and helpful fatherhood; 

And motherhood is justified in glad 

And loving children nurtured tenderly 

Who learn life's earliest lessons with delight. 

What friendships strong, with mutual helpful- 
ness, 
And tender trust, bind men and women in 
The cords that twine with pure serenity 
Of joy, reflecting heaven's blessedness. 
And love is here — sweet, innocent and pure ; 
Forgetting self, love knows another's care. 
And thus another's happiness secures, 
And plants an Eden in the wilderness. 
And when the sun has set, the stars come forth 
To sweep their silent courses through the sky : — 

Behold the city as it sleeps at night! 
The azure vault of heaven turns to deep 



AND FULL-ORBED 31 

And somber purple, pressing downward as 
If Heaven at night would closer come to Earth, 
The roar of vehicles has died away; 
Deserted are the busy streets ; the lights 
Have been extinguished that in windows shone. 
Save now and then a roving roysterer 
Or debauchee, or watchman's step, no sound 
Breaks on the stillness of the midnight hour. 

Now slumber seals the city's eyelids down; 
Ere yet the business of the coming day 
Begins to stir to life, all is repose. 
It is at times like this the mystery 
And meaniing of these congeries of life 
Come in upon the soul. All men sleep 
And all must die ; and in their sleep as in 
Their death, there is equality of man. 
Here we may ponder on the fate of all ; 
Remember childhood that each one may claim. 

Here contemplate the universal care 

And providence and grace of Him from whom 

Have come those who in splendid mansions 

dwell 
And walk on velvet lawns ; and those as well 
Who huddle into horrid alleys, cower 
In lonely corners shrouded by the eaves 
O'erhanging, careful only to escape 
The eye of law — His children are they all. 
The basest born and lowest lived alike 
With saints and holy ministers of God : — 

The honored statesman and the learned sage, 
Together with the ignorant and out-cast. 



32 FOURSQUARE 

Are children of one common father — life 
His greatest gift ; and for them all there is 
Sustaining power, water, air and light; 
To each is given rest ; see how they sleep 
Beneath night's common mantle on His couch 
All rest upon the same kind providence. 
Take off thy shoes, for this is holy ground ; 
The bush is burning, 'tis a sacred place. 

Not in the solitude alone may man 
Commune with heaven, and see the Deity ; 
The Spirit is around the restless mass 
That sweeps along; and this eternal sound 
Of voice and footfall of the countless throng, 
Like the resounding ocean, speaks of Him ; 
And when the hours of rest come like a calm 
Upon the sea to hush its billowy breast. 
The quiet of that moment breathes of Him 
Who keeps the helpless city while it sleeps. 

D D D 

D D 

D 



FOUR PERIODS OF LIFE. 

Childhood. 

A star in the night, a flower in the day, 

A laughing child of seven at play ; 

These three abide whiile the world grows gray. 

There's nothing on earth more pure and mild, 



AND FULL-ORBED 33 

More free from guilt, more undefiled, 
More full of light than the smile of a child ; 
The sinless lips with breath sweet as air, 
And the light that shines in the sunny hair — 
The days of childhood, so free from care! 
Oh, little one smile; I know not why, 
But I feel that the angels are passing by. 
And the light of Heaven breaks through the sky. 

Re-live the past; go back in memory to early 
childhood, back to infancy. Ah, those were free 
and happy days; so free from care and worry 
and anxiety. A soft, sweet radiance lingers on 
them still like the sun in spring upon distant hill, 
or blush of morning on the mountains may ; those 
days we've not forgotten have we yet? Nay ; nor 
shall we, can we e'er forget until our day is past 
and our sun is set. 

Our infancy, our morning's early dawn, the 
early springtime of our life is gone ; it was af- 
fection's fresh and tender bud dropped in the 
lap of loving motherhood ; that bud, awakened 
from unconsciousness expanded soon — itself it 
must express ; yet helpless and dependent, and 
so weak, it must be nurtured long ere it can 
speak or help itself, or make its wishes known — 
parental stewardship in this is shown. 

With much to learn, he tries most everything; 
and how he catches knowledge on the wing ! Be- 
tween long hours of sleep he oft does take, by 
intuition, many things that make, with that 
which his perception may attain, and which his 



34 FOURSQUARE 

little mind could ne*er explain — his world. All 
things are new; great circuses are found by him 
in things most commonplace. So much to learn, 
yet those of greatest fame have had no less to 
learn; 'tis e'er the same. 

The sight of toys awakens in the child posses- 
sion's joy and wishes sweet and mild ; new worlds 
for thought and exploration lie within those toys, 
as mental butterfly is first released from chrysalis 
detached, and reason's songster from its shell is 
hatched. 'Tis then that self begins to be asserted 
and innocence itself is oft perverted; the bad as 
well as good somehow creeps in; some call it 
mischief, others call it sin. 

Howe'er it be, 'tis hard to realize life's lessons 
must be learned to win the prize. Each child 
must take his chance as also did you, and this the 
boys especially will do. Though many things 
may get away with him, yet he will come again ; 
he breaks a limb from falling from a tree he 
climbs, and when but half restored, he climbs 
that tree again. 

He has begun to think, and, like the vine, his 
mind is grasping something to entwine. His 
school-life is the next in order, andi — oh, where 
does it begin? Where does it end? Perhaps with 
generations, before birth: Cycles after he has 
gone from earth: But usually it is supposed to 
be the time beginning with the A. B. C. : and 
ends perhaps when he does graduate and from 
"the common herd" is separate. 



AND FULL-ORBED 35 

Youth. 

O girl of seventeen ! 

O, dewdrop in the sun ! 

What care you what the day may mean 

In joy begun! 

O, pretty laughing lass, 

O, lass with cheeks rose-red! 

The dew from heart of rose will pass, 

Ere hours have sped ! 

O maid with violet eyes 

And with bright hair of gold, 

Laugh while you may; be merry, wise 

Ere day grows old. 

O, dew drop in a rose, 

Drop that the sun drinks up, 

O, sparkle, ere thy morning close. 

In rosy cup. 

A blessed thing it is to have one's youth ere 
sorrow's mist has veiled the light of truth, to look 
out on a world with promise strewn, and realize 
the promise is one's own! to see life as a most 
delightful treasure through lenses which exag- 
gerate each pleasure, importance magnify of pass- 
ing bubble, and minify each future grief or 
trouble! one then sees men as greater, trees as 
taller, and ever afterwards are houses smaller. 

The sweets of life are sweeter and its joys are 
brighter when unmixed with time's alloys. Life's 
company is dearer in those days, ere disappoint- 
ment with its bitterness, embitters every sweet 



7,6 FOURSQUARE 

for girl or boy, and sorrow has beclouded every 
joy ; or weak humanity through confidence, has 
cast away the pearl of innocence ; when life is 
music with its song unsung, it is a blessed thing 
then to be young ! 

To feel the thrill of genuine delight, which pros- 
pect of the future, always bright and glorious, puts 
into each young heart ; to dream delightful ro- 
mances which start the dreamer as the hero on a 
field of battle where all enemies shall yield; and 
after hardships, finally to come, to rest mid bless- 
ings of a perfect home; to take the cup of knowl- 
edge and to think the more one drinks the more 
one loves to drink ! 

'Tis glorious to feel the glow of health; in- 
creasing strength is like a mine of wealth. Be- 
fore disease has filled the mind with dread, or 
body touched with pain from foot to head, 'tis 
easy to believe one's mind and hand are equal 
to all possible demand. Youth is ambitious — lim- 
itless its aim; there's naught that for itself it 
does not claim ; on lofty pedestal it stands, and 
hears the God of Nature saying : "All is yours." 

Life's large perspective's a kaleidoscope to 
many youths ; the shifting scenes of hope and 
promise — colors beautiful appear, but with no 
object definite or clear — in roseate lines of lux- 
ury and ease presented — with whatever else 
may please ; to weightier things they are indif- 
ferent; to cultivate the mind no time is spent; 
to plan for life they do not condescend, but long 
for even days of school to end. 



AND FULL-ORBED 37 

But there are other youths who see in life, 
perspective of reality, and honors and emolu- 
ments for those who earn them ; failures, beg- 
garies and woes for all who will not do their 
share of work, and try responsibility to shirk. 
And if one has a sober cast of mind 'tis not he 
does not relish fun, or find enjoyment in the 
things that he calls light — there's something more 
important to his sight. 

He may not have ambition to excel, but strives 
to do whate'er he's doing well ; he may not have 
ambition e'er to fill earth's highest places but in 
time he will. The call to duty, duty that is 
near, is the sublimest call he now can hear. He 
learns to find his highest pleasure in, perfection 
of his work rather than sin ; the mind and heart 
are strengthened day by day; as steel draws light- 
ning, honors come his way. 

True greatness is a thing that slowly grows, 
and all its consciousness of power it owes to the 
continuous development of mind and heart in 
which one's time is spent. When growth has 
ceased and given place to grief, then life is in 
its sear and yellow leaf. Youth has its bitter, 
and likewise, its sweet enjoyed to the capacity 
complete: — acquit yourselves like women and 
like men, for none of us shall pass this way again. 



3S FOURSQUARE 

Middle-Life. 

There's inspiration in the rising sun 

And in the going down thereof. 

There is a charm in innocence of infancy, 

A pathos in experience of age. 

No halo seems to gather round the years of mid- 
dle-life. 

The bird that wakes the morn with song 

Is silent in the mid-day hour.. 

The open brow of childhood, 

And the maid that moves among the meadows 
fancy free, 

And the furrowed cheek of age. 

The bard inspire. 

But who will sing of stalwart middle-age, 

Find inspiration in prosaic things : 

The stuffy office, daily trips to town ; 

The frowns upon the noise of children, 

And the nods and grunts for answer to the wife? 

And what poetic fire can be aroused by her. 

Poor soul, who having left behind the grace of 
other days 

Is heedless now of her appearance, 

And with unkempt hair and slovenly 

Immersed in busy household cares? 

Now childish fingers sound the scales 

Which once responded to her execution; 

Art, as well as literature, is laid aside; 

A book once gorgeous in its binding, 

Lies in dust and folded on a table 

By a huge black Bible closed with ponderous 
clasp. 



AND FULL-ORBED 39 

The atmosphere is unpoetical. 

At mid-day shadows disappear, 

And with the shadows picturesqueness of the 
view. 

Not favorable to music is the heat of day. 

While childhood, youth and age are poetry- 
touched, 

We call prosaic middle-life, 

And from this period withdraw our tenderness. 

None talk with any touch of sentiment 

Of stalwart struggling middle years. 

They are so practical ; they manage for them- 
selves ; 

And yet perchance most need of sympathy. 

Youth has not tasted gall and wormwood; 

Age, grown accustomed is less sensitive; 

Here bitterness is with capacity combined. 

Life's greatest burdens fall upon these years; 

Not for themselves the middle-aged strive; 

Solicitude is multiplied by needs ; 

Necessity of being at one's best 

May raise to loftier endeavor. 

Or may paralyze by anxiousness 

And make one at his worst, unnerved by what's 
at stake. 

Thus middle-life is most unsolaced of our pil- 
grimage. 

We may no longer meet the sweet and shadowy 
forms 

That haunt our early dreams. 



40 FOURSQUARE 

Yet benedictions fall on middle life, 

If not so glorious as those of youth, 

Substantial and abiding. 

Not without advantage youth is left behind ; 

The rich hues fade from color of the sky; 

The shapes so splendid seen in visions melt 
away ; 

The light of common day usurps the place of 
gorgeous dawn. 

The practical is forced to front; 

Responsibility compels attention to expenditure 
and ways and means. 

Necessity transforms the sentiments 

Into composite powers of character 

As knowledge by experience is gained. 

Tact comes from contact, 

And sagacity is from defeats and victories de- 
rived. 

Thus warriors of the middle-life 

Become the prophets of old age ; they speak what 
they do know; 

Their utterances from their experience flow. 

Prosaic days prepare for helpfulness ; 

With middle-life the moulding of the future 
rests. 



AND FULL-ORBED 41 

Old-Age. 

Old age has never been admired by youth. 

It does seem like an unfit close for such pro- 
phetic tones 

And lyric notes with which the song begins ; 

And weakness toward the end does seem to in- 
dicate 

But little gain for one who wearily 

Has trod o'er fields of eighty years. 

A testimony to a brighter truth is this : 

There's nothing really great in man but mind. 

If man were physical, if that alone, 

Old age would be self-conscious misery. 

Truth finds its utterance in broken voice 

And trembling form of toothless orators ; 

The senses now are dull ; 

Those avenues along whose beauty and whose 
firmness 

Came troops of visiting truths, cargoes of good, 
in other days, 

Are broken and uncared for now. 

The gateways to these avenues 

Are passed less easily than in the years gone by. 

As lanes close up, the soul detached from life. 

Finds thought less rich 

Nor does it leap to be expressed. 

The melodies of other years are sung. 

There is an added pathos in the fact that 'tis im- 
possible 

To beckon back the old-time fragrance to the 
flowers. 



42 FOURSQUARE 

Or to repaint the pristine beauty of the skies, 
Renew the presence of one's youthful friends, 
Or bring again to life the splendid hopes, 
And courage passionate of youthful days. 
Ambition is restrained by failing powers; 
The places multiply that shall be seen no more. 

Looked at this way, old age is but a tomb — 

Sometimes unmarked and poor, 

No clambering vines to hide from visitors its 
ghastliness ; 

Sometimes in architectural splendor rich. 

And written o'er with tender memories; 

Or with embracing vines and flowers enwrapped. 

And crowded round with tearful mourners; 

Still a tomb in which lie childhood's innocence 
and charms, 

Youth's splendid hopes and dreams, 

The fervor, power, plans and aims, of middle- 
life. 

But over human life there comes a truth 

Transforming graves into jeweled gates; 

And o'er the marble front of age it writes: 

"I am the resurrection and the life," 

And fills its chambers with eternal youth. 

The prime creative force of age is faith ; 

Faith keeps the stream of life full of the scents 

And measures of the sea and has impulse for 
carrying out 

All wastes — persuades the soul that clouds 
which hide the sky 

Are but affairs of earth. 



AND FULL-ORBED 43 

Life's best elixir lies in its ideal ; 

If that be high and true, 

It furnishes the wine of life for each advancing 

year, 
A fadeless ideal will make old age serene 
And lovely as a Lapland night. 
The heights of age are reached by steps 
Cut out of everlasting time called years ; 
Heights for discovering new worlds of truth ; 
For larger visions bright and beautiful — 
From which no rough experience removes the 

telescope. 
The atmosphere is passionless and calm; 
No dusty winds of youth's impulses rage. 
The mountain springs, unvisited by blasts of 

vain desire, 
Do mirror forth the stars ; 

The air with passion's nurseling rocked to sleep, 
Presents to eye and ear a medium 
For finer tints and sounds more delicate. 
The gilded baubles and the hollow noise. 
False hopes, illusions of one's youth are gone; 
Truth, which the soul has ever had an interest 

in remains. 

A few more strokes to make, 

A little more of sea to cleave with creaking 

craft, then home. 
Its shores are near; the rich fruits on the waves 
Are in the reach of storm-tossed mariners. 
Angels of hope and benediction come 
To flutter o'er the tired life and guide it home. 
Now lowly, faithful, banishing all fear. 



44 FOURSQUARE 

Right onward drive thy bark, thy self unharmed, 
The port well worth thy cruise is drawing near, 
And every wave and breeze henceforth is 
charmed. 

D D n 

n n 

n 



A UNIVERSAL SHRINE 

The beautiful, the beautiful ; 

It spans creation round, 

And nature's proudest monuments 

Are all with beauty crowned. 

It sparkles in the morning dew 

Adorning nature's dress. 

And laughs in morning's ray of light 

In all its loveliness. 

It blushes in the budding rose 

At spring's first genial breath, 

And lingers till its latest hues 

Have disappeared in death. 

The beautiful, the beautiful ! 

Behold ye not its sheen? 

Throughout creation's wide domain 

The beautiful is seen. 

The shrine at which all worshippers bow down 

Is beauty ; and its worship is divine. 

God's love of beauty is declared 

By worlds of beauty never seen by mortal eye. 



AND FULL-ORBED 45 

In forest solitude, in placid lakes, 
In mountain, vale and shimmering sea, 
What worlds of beauty men have never seen! 
'Tis said that all the powers deserted man 
Save beauty at the fall ; 

She stayed with him to paint elysium on his pris- 
on walls. 
With him an exile in this mortal realm, 
She bears him on her wings to loftier heights ; 
Truth uttered by her lips is poesy. 
The garb of her expression, art. 
She comes in many shapes and hues and ways, 
In native form or clothed in fitting dress. 
In form and color she appeals to sense ; 
Such beauty, frail and fading as it is, 
A scepter wields before whose power 
All ranks and all conditions bow ; 
It levels caste. 

In human countenance this queen resides; 

She looks through eyes whose brightness is her 

own; 
She touches with vermillion hues the face, 
And plants a double row of ivory ; 
She makes the face the seat of smiles and tears 

and blushes; 
And adds attractive airs and graces ; 
Surrounds it with a flowing shade of hair, 
And mounts the head upon the highest part — 
Her capitol, her ornament and home. 
Here we see beauty in its loftiest form : — 
A light that never was on land or sea 
Shines in the features and reveals the soul; 



46 FOURSQUARE 

Exalted character and life itself, 

Half-hidden is unveiled in facial charms; 

A picture painted with exquisite skill, 

A sculpture chiseled with an artist hand, 

A song whose harmonies of truth and love 

Unite to make celestial music 

Are visible in human countenance^ — 

An open book that he who runs may read. 

Refinement, goodness and nobility 

And sweetness, dignity and tenderness, 

Are all with cheerfulness 

Combined to make the human face divinely 

beautiful. 
There's pure delight in beauty of the sky, 
In those calm depths, in dim expanse of sea; 
In verdure of the woods and hills and dales; 
But human face and form as bright and fair 
As angel shape in moonlight, 
Far exceeds the beauty of the sky and sea and 

grove. 

What's female beauty but an air divine 
Through which the mind's all gentle graces 

shine? 
It has been thus described: A fleeting joy, 
A silent cheat, a short-lived tyranny, 
A vain and doubtful good, a summer fruit, 
A frail possession, and a fatal gift; 
Delightful prejudice, most glorious thing, 
A gracious favor by the gods bestowed. 
No better commendation in the world. 
And naught more graceful; — so opinions run. 
As natural as it is for flowers to bloom 



AND FULL-ORBED 47 

Does man admire the charms of womanhood. 
No breath of sin or evil touches him 
Who looks on beauty feeling that he is 
With all the world in perfect harmony. 

Threefold is beauty, of three things composed: 

Of features, color and expression ; 

And of these, the features are inherited ; 

The color too, depends upon the blood ; 

Expression is, alone, one's own affair. 

The play of thought and feeling on the face ; 

Of noble thoughts, of firmness, self-restraint; 

Of pure, unselfish, gentle feelings. 

The transfiguration of a pleasant smile ; 

The kindly lightings of the eye, 

And lines of restful self-control about the lips ; 

Pure shinings of the face as inwardly great 

thoughts enkindle — 
Not inherited are these; 
No fitful week of goodness gives them, 
And no schooling of the vision makes them real. 
How soon a pretty face is marred by vice, 
By folly, vanity and selfishness ! 
A kind and helpful disposition makes the face of 

beauty ; 
'Tis thus acquired : 
By looking love, by listening lovingly, 
By feet that on love's errands go, 
By hands that freely move at love's bequest, 
By brains that always loving deeds do plan, 
By faculties baptized with love's sunshine — 
A heart that seeks another's happiness. 



48 FOURSQUARE 



HOME AND HOME-LIFE 

Home! the word itself is poetry; 

It rings like peals of wedding-bells 

Except more deep and sweet it chimes upon the 

ear and heart. 
It may be cottage thatched or manor-house 
There is no other place like home. 
Green grow the house-leak neath the roof for aye. 
And let the moss e'er flourish on the thatch. 
The sparrows chirup round the chosen spot of 

joy and rest; 
For every bird loves its own nest ; 
The owl believes the ruined tower 
The fairest spot beneath the moon; 
And cozy the fox regards his hillside home. 
Toward home no whip or spur the nag doth 

need ; 
The homeward way is best of all the roads. 
We love to see our chimney's smoke 
Far better than the fire on other hearth than 

ours; 
How beautiful it curls among the trees ! 
The rose and honey-suckle at our door 
Are sweeter to the smell than all the flowers 
That bloom in other yards. 

In-doors is hall of liberty; 

No need to guard each word — to keep the heart 

with lock and key 
For none can peep and pry ; no enemy is on the 

watch. 



AND FULL-ORBED 49 

The home is not a prison-house of rule and order, 

But just a little quiet haven 

Free from the storms of life's great sea — 

The only strife in doing most to make each other 

blest. 
Home is not merely roof and room, 
A place to eat and sleep, with none to greet and 

love ; 
But home is where affection calls. 
And where the heart can bloom and build its 

shrine of love. 
Its threshold is the way to love's embrace ; 
The line between the journey and the rest ; 
The holy boundary which when wandering far. 
One longs again to cross and greet his own. 
Upon its golden border eager feet do tread ; 
There wait the warm hand-clasp and kiss of deep 

affection ; 
Welcome unassumed ! 

What thrilling recollections throng 

About that oft frequented spot ! 

What partings sad and bitter ! 

How souls have wrung with grief 

As some in loneliness remained, 

And others far away have gone to pine in some 

strange, distant land, 
To cross perhaps that threshold nevermore. 
Across that line what treasures of the fireside 

have been borne. 
As still and low and answering not 
The sobbing tone or pressure of the lips ! 
The young and charming bride upon the arm 



50 FOURSQUARE 

Of him whom she ha^' chosen, 

Bids farewell to scenes of all her past, 

To go with him, and try the unknown future. 

Home the place of meetings, partings, welcomes 

and farewells; 
The place of tears and tender memories; 
The place of joy and rest and peace elsewhere 

unknown ! 
But these all have an end. 
One day we leave to nevermore return. 
There is a home that shall endure ; 
Its gates are pearl, its walls are precious stones ; 
Within are smiles of welcome and eternal joys 

and splendors. 
Friends who are sundered long, little feet 
That lost their way along the tangled roads of 

earth, 
And kindred dear of ways and memories sweet, 
Shall meet again in that fair home above. 

Our home-life is our true life; 

Here is least restraint and being free to be 

ourselves, 
Real character most freely is revealed. 
In the unguarded freeness of home-life 
How one is tempted to be careless of 
The finer, better traits of character! 
And yet no influence cast about us leaves 
So permanent impression on our lives, 
So marked as does the influence of home. 
Amid life's multitude of changes, 
Turned aside as many are from their ideals 



AND FULL-ORBED 51 

And ivom. the purposes of earlier years, 

Or left a stranded wreck in character 

By storms of fierce temptations which hare been 

encountered, 
There is no spell so strong 
To draw them back to paths of virtue and of 

duty, 
As are the dear remembered scenes of home. 

Oh ! in our sterner manhood when no ray 
Of earlier sunshine glimmers on our way; 
When girt with sins and sorrows and the toil, 
Of cares that rend the bosom that they soil ; 
Oh ! if there be in retrospection's chain, 
One link that knits us with young life again, 
One thought so sweet we scarcely dare to muse 
On all the hoarded treasures it reviews, 
Which seem an instant in its backward range, 
The heart to soften and its ties to change, 
And every spring untouched for years to move — 
It is the memory of a mother's love. 

D n D 

n n 

n 

A SOLUTION OF DIVORCE 

I saw an aged pair whose faces had a beauty 
of their own that made me glad. Around tliem 
hung an Indian-Summer haze of mellowed gold- 
en sunshine, and their ways were not by young- 



52 FOURSQUARE 

er folks to be surpassed — an atmosphere in which 
'twas sweet to bask. 'Twas a delight to look in- 
to their eyes, to see the glance of pleasure or 
surprise, the eager flush that mounted to the 
cheek as they arranged a stroll, by-paths to seek 
— anticipating what they might enjoy in morn- 
ing walk — just like a girl and boy. I watched 
them take the path-way winding down to some 
romantic glen away from town, which, carpeted 
with velvet moss and flowers and musical with 
brooks, held them for hours. Returning laden 
with their spoil of ferns and flowers and gaily 
painted leaves. And thus one learns what keeps 
such blessed couples fresh ; we see it is the spirit 
of true poetry. 

No doubt they have had cares and sorrows such 
as others have and they have struggled much 
against adversity — have had their share ; but ere 
these could embitter, break or wear or sterilize 
the spirit they have sought — as every thoughtful 
man and woman ought — for solace and for in- 
spiration in enjoying clearly something that 
had been recuperative and bright ; and on this 
wise they are transfigured in each other eyes. 
Responsive to eternal loveliness must ever be the 
beauty of the face — not otherwise. A thousand 
sunsets' glow ; and moonlit lakes ; and crystal 
fountain's flow ; romantic dells — all garnered in 
those eyes in which they smile with mutual sym- 
pathies. 'Tis through such ministries that they 
become unspeakably attractive. 

Man is never prized for what he is, but blest 



AND FULL-ORBED 53 

for the horizons which he does suggest. Apart 
from this man has no comeliness. A secret of 
abiding happiness in married life — as in all social 
life — is that a man should always greet his wife, 
and she her husband, in original light that drives 
humdrum monotony from sight. No cudgeling 
of the brain can e'er devise how something out 
of nothing can arise ; the antidote for dull satiety 
comes rather from the rich variety, of stimulus 
that lies in nature, books, kind services society, 
and looks of gentleness, of outings in the wood ; 
they see as otherwise they never could, how each 
can soar above the commonplace a son or daugh- 
ter of infinite space and time ; they laugh, and 
fall in love again. 

In this philosophy of life there is a plain solu- 
tion for the problem of divorce — some cases it 
might never reach of course. No man can be ex- 
pected to admire one woman forty years, or she 
desire the same identical monotonous man for 
that same period ; but each one can have many 
new companions by surprise — they have if they 
the fact but realize. "Why John you're a poet," 
Helen cries ; "Why Helen you're another," John 
replies. It is alone in this philosophy that one the 
bottom facts of life can see. 



54 FOURSQUARE 



THE DIGNITY OF LABOR 

Though many sided and complex life's work, 
one thing is obvious no one may shirk; there is 
one law for all the sons of men : He who would 
eat must work with hand or brain. Some labor 
to produce the things we need ; some scatter 
them ; the race some clothe and feed. To these 
we add the labor of the mind which is intense and 
real as any kind. No lasting good has ever been 
produced except by earnest mental work induced. 

All satisfaction in a life like ours is found in 
work. Like harp-strings all our powers make 
music when they vibrate there alone. The gen- 
tleman the gentle deeds has done ; he is, however 
mean his birth or place, the gentleman whom 
gentle thoughts do grace. If such be true gentil- 
ity, it then is no monopoly of wealthy men. No 
toil degrading in itself has ever been, and naught 
that's useful can be low or mean. 

The crown of life is character. No soil is 
honest sweat upon the brow of toil ; it is no stig- 
ma but a jeweled crown. Yet ruinous alike unto 
the town it fills, and to country-life that it would 
shirk, is fancied stigma of rough forms of work. 
A horny hand a sign of toil may be, but not of 
coarseness or vulgarity. In workshop of earth's 
greatest man we find a witness that all labor is 
divine. 

An aureole of splendor none can dim, shines on 
the life of those who follow him. To recognize 
the dignity of toil ; to find in labor happiness for 



AND FULL-ORBED 55 

all; to grasp the truth that labor is divine; — all 
labor, not alone what men call fine, but like- 
wise that which is described as coarse ; to use it 
as an educational source, will more than acts 
of legislature may, solve so-called labor questions 
of the day. 

All human labor is conjoined to art, an attri- 
bute of deity, the part that manifests its highest 
form in man; the quality in man that's most 
divine. All work for human purposes performed 
is "feeling passed in thought and fixed in form." 
Thus art and labor are but one — not twain ; what- 
ever helps the body, heart or brain — unseen, but 
little seen, or much doth shine — all art is noble, 
labor is divine. 

D n n 
n n 



THE TOILERS 

Hark! do you hear the sound, the heavy tread 
Of labor fighting for its daily bread: 
Foreheads white, and brows all brown with 

grime, 
Their garments black with soot or white with 

slime ; 
They push the plane, they sail the stormy deep, 
They click the type when loved ones are asleep. 



56 FOURSQUARE 

Through streets and lanes their lusty voices ring, 
By roaring, forge a cherry song they sing. 
They march into the field in early morn 
To sow the grain, to cultivate the corn. 

And some thought coarse and rough are grand- 
ly fine; 

They set the plow, they sweat in sunless mine ; 

They lift the sledge, they hide with cunning art 

The spark that tears the mountain's stubborn 
heart ; 

They reap the fields that fill the land with bread, 

They coin the ore beneath the stamp-mill's tread ; 

They spread the sail, or sweep the dripping 
seine — 

Or wave farewell to ne'er come home again. 

They make the furnace glow in streams of steel. 

And bend the planks along the oaken keel. 

They climb the coping, set the cap-stone high, 
And bridge the streams with roadways in the 

sky. 
They spin the thread and weave the silken weft^- 
Or crushed to death they leave their homes 

bereft. 
In ancient days they were but serfs or slaves, 
Where Carthage stood, where rolls Euphrate's 

waves. 
Thank heaven, no more the toiler bows in fear ; 
The day that he is master draweth near. 
Far better things are yet in store than now 
For those who use the hammer, pen or plow. 



AND FULL-ORBED 57 



THE VALUE OF WEALTH 

If he who gains a fortune pays so much of 
energy — so that he cannot touch, when it is 
gained, for real enjoyment, a single farthing or 
a single cent, then what is it but mockery to 
him ? And such success but failure, dismal, grim? 
What hosts of gilded failures are there then, now 
masquerading as successful men ! Not getting 
wealth is the chief end of man^ — the world is built 
upon a different plan. 

If with four natures, man improves but one, 
he is a failure quite, and Folly's son. If with ac- 
cess to many worlds he choose but one, the world 
of business, and refuse all others, he must be in- 
solvent stated, however high his credit may be 
rated. A man who is successful lives in all the 
rooms of the great house of life ; the hall, the 
counting-room, the library as well ; the dining- 
room, the fire hospitable ; 

The picture-gallery, and music-room ; the 
chapel, lawn and garden walks — the bloom of life 
is his ; all life for him was made ; and time enough 
there is, for pleasure-taking. Agassiz had no 
time for money-making; too many men have lit- 
tle time beside; life's greatest things and best 
thus from them hide. Sublimely Nature's 
pageant passes on before their eyes; they never 
see till it is gone. 

The drama wonderful of human life about them 
is enacted ; in their strife for wealth, they are to 
it oblivious ; stars, woods, and seasons, heights 
acclivitous, and depths abyssmal, human comedy 



58 FOURSQUARE 

and tragedy, to them no more can be than to 
the beasts that perish. Yet these men who scorn 
God's universe, refusing, when its marvelous gifts 
are offered unto them, erroneously are styled; 
"Successful Men." 

Was ever there a more deceitful lie, or ever 
such malicious irony ? Nature takes but small ac- 
count, it seems, for mere conventionalities, or 
claims ; she has a test, a test that's all her own — 
no other test to her is ever known : The open eye 
and soul; the mind at ease with life; the con- 
science and the heart at peace — these are the 
things that Nature does demand of all who love 
her, all who understand. 

With beauty as a garment overspread, dis- 
closing truth at every stately tread, o'erflowing 
with vitality and force, and holding in her hand 
the bounteous source of all man needs for susten- 
ance below — what other teacher can so much 
bestow? Do we the beauty of the skies discern? 
the majesty of woods with freshness learn? Are 
these and kindred things to us a rest and a re- 
freshment — this is Nature's test. 

D n n 

n n 

n 

THE VALUE OF LIFE 

The life of man is like the boundless sea; 
In all its length and breadth and depth 'tis one 
It throws itself against the shores of time, 
And sends its waters up 



AND FULL-ORBED 59 

To feed and to refresh the heart of all the race. 

The waters are the same today 

As when they washed the shores of earth in 

Caesar's time 
Or bore the crafts that brought the cedars 
From afar for temple built by Solomon. 
Shore-lines have changed, the waters are the 

s^ame. 

The sea has made in-roads upon the land; 
The land likewise usurped the place of sea; 
But 'tis the same unresting, briny deep 
That has for ages rolled around the world. 
The life that throbs in human hearts today 
Is just the same mysterious thing it was 
When Shishak, King of Egypt in the time of 

Rehoboam, 
Took Jerusalem — the same immeasurable and 

wondrous life, 
Existing in complete self-consciousness — 
One life, whose highest waves are seen and 

named ; 
Whose little waves that never rise enough 
To fleck themselves with foam or crown their 

heads, 
Remain unknown ; but in reality. 
They all are waves upon one common sea; 
They all are blest and gladdened 
By the life whose billows rise to view. 

And yet unlike the waves of sea, 

They are individualized and highly organized ; 

Empowered with self-consciousness and will. 



6o FOURSQUARE 

Each human being finds himself met by a spirit 

Claiming him, which marks him for his own ; 

The stamp of personality is put upon him 

And he breathes the power of personality within ; 

Thus he becomes a living soul, 

And conscious that he is distinct 

From all the general fund of life. 

He is no longer harnessed in the trace of forces 

physical, 
With damps and winds ; 
He sees around the light of a new day ; 
He sees ahead the shores of a new world; 
And, though his craft is perishably frail. 
And held by gravity and temperature, 
He passes from the world of matter to the world 

of spirit, 
Where he no longer is the child of time 
But of eternity. 

The waters of the sea may round him rise 
But back into their liquid arms 
No more can they disintegrate and scatter him ; 
He is not subject to the sea of life. 
Instead of being subject to the sea 
Or its subconscious billows in their flow. 
He finds that they are subject unto him, 
And o'er their heads and through their surging 

folds 
He rides on his triumphant way. 
Life lifts him up, but not possesses him, 
As seas possess their tides and waves. 
He uses life to build a sage or saint. 
Or else to furnish the equipment 
For his limitation and his misery. 



AND FULL-ORBED 6i 

How varied is human life ! 

How much alas, has been a lurid multitudinous 

dream ; 
A vision streaked with jack-o-lantern light 
Thrown up from damps of crime and appetite ! 
A castle in the air, built at great cost, 
Without foundation, harmonizing not 
With anything eternal and secure! 
A nightmare filled with regal actors 
Who have uttered speech and played their parts 
And filled the night, without a purpose or a 

name! 
A nightmare broken, scattered at its end. 
Without a trace of meaning left at dawn ! 
A tragedy where merchant princes 
Act their wild and mad unregulated play, 
No Shakespeare to transmute it into form ! 
A poem with its rhyme and rhythm 
And all accompaniments of human interest, 
Passion and cloud and fire and birth and death — 
No Tasso bearing it to future times ! 

Life has its history unseen, unheard, 

And unrecorded by Heroditus ; 

Yet typified by man in Eden where he once did 
live — 

In Hades where he often since has dwelt. 

Life is a drama, where for human spirits. 

Fiends with angels oft contend ; 

Where men refuse companionship of angels. 

Choosing to consort with fiends — 

No Milton clothing it with forms insuring im- 
mortality. 



62 FOURSQUARE 



HARMONIOUS DEVELOPMENT 

A being's true perfection, depends in a world 
like ours, upon the full development of all the 
normal powers. Each power has its function, 
for action has its field; with reference to some 
lawful end, each act some fruit should yield. Man 
is a complex being, and lives a complex life ; witk 
obligations manifold and privileges rife. 

As time has been divided into days, as light 
is hued, so man, God's image, is endowed with a 
nature thus imbued. The rainbow in its colors, 
the gamut in its tones, dividing light, dividing- 
sound, each in its separate zones; dividing all 
creation as far as planets roll, with harmonies 
that fill the sky and vibrate on the soul, are mir- 
rors each, and echoes, of purpose, thought and 
plan, pervading first the mind of Him who said: 
"Let us make man." 

When life is thus proportioned — each part re- 
ceives its due, each power to most advantages 
used — the best results ensue. To him who takes 
his being, and from its plastic mold, each part to 
full perfection works, as all his powers unfold, 
is due the fame immortal of one who beauteous 
form hath chiseled from the solid rock, artistic 
taste to charm; he paints on living canvas con- 
ceptions fair and true, more beautiful beyond 
compare than fancy's flattering view. 



AND FULL-ORBED 6^ 

THE HIGHER LIFE 

The higher life abounds in winsome grace 

And in athletic virtues; 

Strength and beauty blend in culture's high- 
est forms. 

The sweetest angel chiseled from the block, 

The grandest music given to the world, 

The greatest temple ever raised to God, 

Are nothing, when compared unto the soul — 

"A perfect cube adorned with precious gems." 

What visions come and go! 

What ideals bestud the bosom of immensity! 

Welcome, ye citizens of loftier worlds 

Than those of passion and of sense : 

Imagination flying through the heavens 

To dot immensity with radiant worlds 

Of painting, architecture and poetry; 

Fancy, that makes the soft and silvery light 

Where lovers coo and woo. 

And fairy queens their ringlets shake in erery 
passing breeze ; 

And taste, that lifts the gates of pearl, 

And rolls upon the soul a stream of present joy ; 

Creative genius that brings all forms of litera- 
ture, 

A goodly choir of arts and sciences, 

The constellations of philosophy and eloquence — 

All full of sympathetic grace 

And healing power. 



64 FOURSQUARE 

In this out-reaching of the mind. 

There comes a deeper sympathy with every form 

of life; 
In this unfolding of the higher life, 
Cathedral music is produced — 
New keys developed in the organ of the soul. 
The life foursquare, full-orbed, is musical; 
For music is the highest literature, 
And deepest wisdom ; 

Music lies beneath the surface of all things ; 
When lightnings flash and thunders crash, 
And billows of the sea meet wrathful clouds 

above 
With sheets of foam, 
And mountains are on mountains hurled, 
Amid the hurly-burly of the storm, 
We know that all a little way above is peace; 
Beneath, is music of unending calm. 
Here all harsh sounds are turned to harmonies, 
Harsh voices lost in universal love, 
Like strains of distant music in the night. 

When all our lives are what they ought to be. 

All powers poised and balanced perfectly, 

Then human life will be a harp of gold. 

Of what avail is skill 

To demonstrate the propositions of geometry. 

Repeat the formulas of logic, 

Solve problems in integral calculus, 

Parse sentences in many different tongues, 

Tell of the human body's mechanism. 



AND FULL-ORBED 65 

Sweep all the circles of the sciences 

And poetry and music — 

If the soul itself be not a golden treasury? 

I knew a youth whose bearing and whose mein 
Was full of majesty and chivalrous grace; 
With ease absorbing knowledge, 
He did quaff the wines from skulls of empires; 
Literature, philosophy and history he made his 

own; 
He was familiar with the sciences, 
And all the languages possessed for him a charm. 
Receiving his degrees, he entered law 
And soon became a large and lustrous star 
In the highest constellations of the courts. 
This keen logician, brilliant orator — 
His circle's idol — died a debauchee ! 
How many move upon the shoals of time 
As hierarchs of science, letters, song, 
Whose natures are luxuriant of vice ! 

How beautiful the human life, through which 
there runs 

The golden threads of grace and truth ! 

How vast the difference between the soul arid 
genius ! 

The soul can soar with vision reaching far be- 
yond the stars, 

Its plumage glistening in the noon-day sun. 

And step to music of the harps of God. 



66 FOURSQUARE 

Beyond the heights are scenes of grandeur 

strange, 
And vistas beautiful range after range; 
And all the glories of the life we see 
Are but a drop in God's immensity. 

D n D 

n n 

n 



HIDDEN POWER 

I saw amid beauty otherwise unmarred,, 

A block of marble, formless, rough and hard, 

A plowman passing there to turn the soil. 

But cursed the useless thing that mocked his 

toil. 
A stranger came ; sat musing many an hour, 
His eyes enlightened by a hidden power. 
The peasants called him mad; by wink and jest 
Betrayed how men their fellows can detest. 
His eyes could see deep in the heart of stone 
The form and face of one he long had known. 

Then with the steel responding to his thought — 
A holy zeal sustained him while he wrought — 
Fired with heroic love, so labored he 
As one impelled to set a captive free. 
Day after day he wrought divinely well. 
Till marble uttered what he longed to tell ; 
Till beauty not of earth, did there unfold; 



AND FULL-ORBED 67 

Transcendant features bloomed from marble cold. 
The many then the charm could not resist ; 
Some held aloof, but some the marble kissed. 

Old men in paths descending to the shades 
Grew young again with youth that never fades, 
And in that face akin to human kind 
Each needy soul a difference did find. 
A bride who felt the influence of that face 
Would linger oft, charmed with its perfect grace, 
And lo! a voice from lips no longer dumb, 
Won her from things that were to things to 

come; 
Ere yet communed to her the loving word 
She sang rejoicing like the morning bird. 

A mother with her babe upon her breast 
Found help to bear her load and give her rest. 
Anon her boy, attuned to loftier flight 
A song of joy that filled the world with light. 
The work goes on as constant as the sun. 
And countless souls enkindled by that one 
A nobler song shall sing. Thus in God's plan 
The very stones may tell his love to man ; 
And beauties lie unborn in earth and sky 
That wakened once to life can never die. 



68 FOURSQ-UARE 



GATEWAYS AND GALLERIES. 

The city of the soul has many gates ; 

The eye-gate through which pass a multitude 

Of friends and strangers, fields and clouds and 

skies ; 
The ear-gate through which trooping come sweet 

songs 
With conversations, speech and eloquence, 
And laughter, with Niobe's grief and woe. 
We cross the threshold of another's mind 
And wander through his halls of memory ; 
But conversation is with living friend — 
The ear was made for one not many songs. 

The vision stays within horizon near; 

Beyond the line where skies and forest meet. 

Are many distant, vast historic scenes ; 

Beyond are battle-fields bestrewn with blood ; 

Beyond are parthenon and pyramids — 

Books are the telescope that brings them near, 

And causes tropical and arctic zones, 

The generations with their woes and wars. 

To pass for us for our enlightenment 

And our delight in panomaric view. 

We reap in many harvest-fields of thought: 
With Livingstone we tread the devious ways 
And hostile jungles of dark continents, 
Or else we search through Andes with Hum- 
boldt; 
With Neibhur read the ancient manuscripts — 



AND FULL-ORBED 69 

The parchments, obelisks and monuments 
Set up in ancient days that we might trace 
Our path of progress through the centuries ; 
With Audubon we find in forest wilds 
The history of everything with wings. 

From time to time a genius appears ; 
He passes through our lowly life and world; 
He sees sights not beholden of our eyes, 
Hears melodies too fine for our dulled ears. 
What other men behold as bits of coal, 
His genius transmutes to precious gems. 
He sees life's tragedies in friend's career; 
Finds comedies in dreams, mid-summer nights ; 
He muses, and the hidden force breaks forth, 
As bulbs their heart of gold and fire proclaim. 

The ages wait to speak thus with us all, 
And guides of ages thus await our call ; 
We ride with Walter Scott to tournament, 
Or walk into the fields where Wordsworth went ; 
With Virgil shiver on the river's brink ; 
With Plato we know better how to think ; 
With Dana read in rocks of nature's wars ; 
With Herschel, while at rest we study stars ; 
With Dante catch a glimpse of Paradise, 
With Shakespeare to a higher level rise. 

The soul of man is not confined within 
The narrow limits of the human frame; 
It wings its way up to the heavenly orbs, 
And reaches down to unexplored depths. 
It enters into subtle substances 



70 FOURSQUARE 

And separates them into elements. 
The body is the servant of the soul — 
Soul is the time defying principle; 
With its capacity unsatisfied, 
Can it, in death, forever cease to be? 

'Tis immortality and that alone. 

Amid life's pain, abasement, emptiness, 

The soul can comfort, elevate and fill. 

Oh, when a man has reached, apparently, 

The utmost point of all development, 

When he has mastered finite obstacles, 

When he has weighed the stars in balances, 

And snatched the secrets from the flaming sun, — 

Then still the heart a far-ofif glory sees, 

And something not of earth still fans the breeze. 

All things that be, all love, all thought, all joy, 

Spell bind the man as once the growing boy, 

And point afar to boundless worlds of truth. 

Where souls renewed in an immortal youth, 

Shall know the infinite, its music hear. 

All hope for life beyond somehow, somewhere; 

Beyond death's power, in other spheres sublime, 

To live beyond the ravages of time. 

This glorious hope is, in reality, 

The morning dream of life's eternal day. 



AND FULL-ORBED 71 

THE SOURCE OF LIGHT 

The world rolled in an ebon atmosphere 

Until the inky mists were scattered by 

The gloden rays of the ascending sun. 

The keenest brain is but a telescope, 

Its vision turned unmoved and cold 

Upon the grandest and the fairest objects 

Till the entrance of the Word of God gives light. 

The rainbow scarfed the cloud before the flood; 

The lilies blossomed ere were pointed out, 

By the Son of Man, the court-eclipsing group. 

So flowered the mind where heathen wrought in 

gold, 
Where dusky sages watched the stars. 
And where Greek orators and poets wrote and 

sung; 
Still, unillumined from above, 
It was a telescope, perfect and powerful. 
But failing to unveil the distant stars. 

The book of nature ever fascinates the mind; 

Where'er creative finger rests, 

It leaves its mark of purity. 

If Earth were but a lodge, 

A place less beautiful would serve ; 

'Tis ceiled with blue and curtained with the 

stars. 
Festooned with clouds, and cooled with flashing 

founts, 
And ventilated with the morning wings of angels, 
Like Edenic bowers ; it is no barrack 
But a palace beautiful. 



72 FOURSQUARE 

Likewise the book of revelation 

Is a fascinating study to the mind. 

Priceless pearls in caskets beautiful and exquis- 
ite are set; 

Unlike man's art, the chasing is not for mere 
effect. 

Its lightning is not artificial, 

But the casual result of speed and power; 

And from its incidental flashes 

Have musicians, orators and painters 

Lit their torches that illuminate the world. 

Yet from the starry canopy, 

Men turn for aid to glow-worms in the grass ; 

With ardor quite invincible. 

They risk their lives to find the sources of the Nile, 

Or an imaginary point of Northern snows. 

But what importance is to be attached to these, 

Compared to man's own source of being, 

And the prospect of his own eternity? 

Not undervalued are the sciences — 

They all are worthy of one's deepest thought ; 

A labyrinth of mystery is each 

And all are marvelously wrought. 

Look where one will, the world with wonder 

teems ; 
With three-score years and ten in which to look, 
To run about, to marvel, and to die ! 

We almost idolize those provinces 
Where Satan's meddling has not overlaid the 
prints of Deity, 



AND FULL-ORBED 73 

Where elements of moral evil are unseen; 

It is like drifting in a boat o'er silver springs 

While looking at the many-colored shells and 

pebbles, 
Fish that sport in silvery scales 
Or shine like gold or dart like streaks of light 
Through fairy gardens and aquatic groves, 
With rosy shades for water grooms and brides. 
Bewitching study of the natural world — 
Its pictured wonders are a pure delight ; 
But when we come to moral realms. 
The sun is set, the stars are overcast, 
The blue sky hides its face in dismal gloom, 
The ink-fish spurts into the crystal tide his black- 
ness ; 
And rude night winds disturb the waves. 

Science works outside and deals with man as 

seen by sense ; 
We see him here as he to inner vision is revealed. 
A man in pulling back a bee-hive slide 
Exposes the inhabitants at work ; 
So in God's book we look into the moral world ; 
See motives that have caused mankind to sin, 
And angels mirrored, devils at their work. 
Here we can span abysmal chasms, 
And trace the altitudes of everlasting truth ; 
Here fathom depths of wisdom infinite, 
And soar mid glories of the endless life ; 
Elsewhere we see the palace, here the King. 

The literary skeptics are the weeds of Christen- 
dom ; 



74 FOURSQUARE 

Their verdant rhetoric 
Would be impossible in other soil. 
These wayside thistles are indeed ornate, 
With crystal drops and sunshine on their leaves ; 
They shine like beads — they stand in sacred soil. 
The icebergs, haughty children of King Frost, 
No obligation seem to owe the sun; 
But cold alone a glacier ne'er produced; 
E'en ice can trace its lineage to the heat. 

The Sun of Righteousness draws particles 

Of many minds into his presence ; 

And, piloted by human wills, they drift 

Into the border-land of atheism, 

And in mistaken independence stand. 

Strong, bloodless, grand and beautiful. 

Because still played upon by beams that gave 

them birth. 
E'en mists that rise to hide the sun 
May be transfigured till admiring spectators for- 
get 
Their splendor is not of the clouds. 
So long as shines the sun, e'en shattered glass 
May gleam like diamonds in life's wayside sands ; 
The sun once set, then all such light could give, 
For the illumination of the world. 
Would be like matches struck upon a ship 
That had been water-logged, in midnight storm. 

Far grander buildings still are in the rocks 
Than man has ever quarried out of them. 
The mental masonary of Homer 
Is complete, but what of Homer's hero? 



AND FULL-ORBED 75 

Achilles, arming for the war, 

Is tame beside the Conqueror from Edom, 

A giant with his vesture dipped in blood; 

Or stepping 'neath the burdens of the world; 

Or riding in salvation's chariot, 

In splendor ineffable pavillioned, 

And canopied by space immeasurable, 

The heavenly hosts and a redeemed world 

Upon their knees in reverence ! Compare them ! 

As well compare a smoke-stack to a star.. 

The noblest form of art flows from this Book ; 

'Tis froze on canvas, dipped in liquid notes, 

And in its opulence, gives fervid style 

To oratory and literature. 

As dashing through the forest, 

The wild deer bears odors of the herbs it brushed 

in flight, 
So even novels come sometimes, perfumed 
From rambles through the mountain groves of 

myrrh ; 
And many plants in outside world now bloom. 
Which once to sacred fields had been confined. 

The mighty floods that lie in placid lakes 

Are not appreciated till they prove 

A small fragment of their magnificence — 

Poured o'er the heights of some Niagara. 

Men rave o'er literary cataracts, 

While they forget the vast, unfathomed sea, 

Still inexhaustible and unexplored, 

That lies behind — their origin and source. 

Like Bible bards born out of time 



76 FOURSQUARE 

Men seem, who are yet triflers in cemparison. 
The languages contain but little, 
And the revelations of the sciences 
But deal with outward surfaces : 
Geology of time, astronomy of space ; 
Biology may give a flash of tides 
That flow forever in life's hidden channels. 
Making us suspect creation's delicacy. 

But while we look for Deity in laws, 

At molecules to see if God is there. 

Here is a Book that plants us mid the group of 

angels 
When it first was said a world should be created 
In which man should rule. 
We gather, with the winged spectators of loftiest 

intelligence, 
Upon the battlements of pearl; 
The gorgeous earth swims out into the light of 

heaven ; 
The morning stars burst into rapture, 
And the sons of God give their applause, 
As they behold, appareled in celestial light. 
In color-flames outvying rainbow hues, 
A new-born daughter of the skies 
As on she moves and rolls and floats in sunbeam 

seas. 

What other mysteries compare with these? 
What are the wonders of the starry skies. 
The mysteries of music, and the vast 
And stirring revelations of the past creations 



AND FULL-ORBED 77 

Disinterred from cyphered rocks? 

What is the physiologist's delight 

As he with microscope in patience looks, 

And tries to trace the principle of life, 

To lose it mid the labyrinthine cells. 

To which Earth's learning has no slightest clue? 

What are all intellectual joys, 

Compared unto the heaven-born science of God's 

book? 
When music can no longer fascinate. 
When poetry has ceased to stir, 
And sobs of friends recall no more. 
This Book will fling its golden baldric o'er the 

sea of death, 
And form a pavement to the throne of God. 

D n n 

D n 

n 



THE SOURCE OF LIFE. 

How strange that men of culture and of lore 
Should fail to see what nature has in store! 
Who planned and wrought such wondrous things, 

to prove 
Himself to be the source of power and love? 
How could the things that now revolve about, 
Have come without a mind to work it out? 
No one to cause the seed to germinate. 
Or will or power to order or create? 



78 FOURSQUARE 

Who gave the sun its power and rays so bright? 
Who gave the moon its lustre? stars their light? 

Who made the streams, the brooklets and the rills, 
The gentle winds, the rocks and templed hills? 
Whence came the seas whose waves roll o'er the 

deep? 
Who gave activity? gave rest and sleep? 
Whence all these worlds that swing themselves in 

space? 
Who made the law that holds each one in place? 
What is the force that makes the flowers bloom, 
And gives to each its color and perfume? 
Whence all the life that springs out of the sod? 
There's but one answer — the reply is God. 

When nature speaks to men in summer air. 
The cool, soft breath is wind, but God is there; 
When friends meet happily, heart speaks to heart, 
Each one perceives alone his fellow's part, 
But God is there, his presence though unseen. 
When from the woods or dewy garden green, 
With liquid syllables of music came 
A sudden speechless rapture through the frame, 
Was it God's voice that moved us? 'Twas a bird 
Who sings for God and yet His voice we heard. 

God spake to man in garden fair and green; 
Where mountains frowned His mighty law was 

seen. 
Each flower still proclaims His mighty power, 
And God who speaks to us, speaks every hour. 
That mystic thing called life, in pine-tree tall 



AND FULL-ORBED 79 

And lowly herb — His soul is in it all. 
And so all beauty, music, power andi grace, 
And all the laws that hold all things in place^ 
Are His; if we but knew and felt Him near, 
The love oi everything would cast out fear. 

D D n 

n n 

n 

THE ATHEIST AND THE FOOL. 

I've wandered here and there around the world; 

I chased the winter from the golden gate, 

And lingered in the tropic long enough 

My feet to^ blister in its fiery breath. 

I listened to the yelp of shepherd's dog 

That chased the woolly sheep which floundered 

In the snow-drifts on New Zealand's hills; 

I roamed through India, land of poetry and super- 
stition ; 

Read on Calvary account of crucifixion; 

Saw the street called Straight in old Damascus; 

Watched as round and round they whirled, the 
dancing dervishes. 

I bathed in pools of Bethesda 
And in the mineral springs of Austria's Carlsbad; 
Saw VesuviO'US, whose top was curled with smoke. 
And followed guards through Catacombs of Rome ; 
I stood amid the ruins of Jerusalem and Ephesus, 
And in Westminster I heard the organ's mournful 
throat 



8o FOURSQUARE 

That called among the tombs as if to wake the 

dead; 
Saw Edinborough sulk among the cliffs. 
Because her swords to plowshares had been turned ; 
Killarney Castle with its blarney-stone, 
And Ireland with its red-cheeked girls 
And men who govern every land except their 

own — 

But under Southern Cross or Northern Star, 
Or 'mid the islands of the far-off seas, 
I never saw a city, village, tribe or nation. 
But two places I have found: 
A burial place and one in which to pray. 
The fool alone has said: "There is no God." 

D D D 

D D 

D 



FOUR PICTURES FROM LIFE. 

Upon the walls of memory are hung 

Four pictures drawn from scenes in life. 
Scene First. 

It is the holy Sabbath day; 

A peaceful calm rests on the sea and land. 

The silvery tones of church-bells ring upon the 
evening air, 

As through the door to cushioned pew the well- 
dressed people pass. 



AND FULL-ORBED 8i 

The choir is singing: I was glad when it was said 

to me, 
Let us go into the house of God. 
The sermon is of Heaven; 
Weary men and women bask awhile 
In glory of the sinless home above; 
The sermon ends. 

Scene Second. 

In the shadow of that church, 

Shines out the rosy light of a saloon; 

'Tis no low groggery, for it is licensed high. 

There singing birds in gilded cages hang 

'Mid trellised vines that clamber o'er the door; 

And flowers from decorated windows breathe 
aroma; 

Floating out upon the air, 

There comes the sound of music; 

It is the song of the care-free, song of the wine- 
full. 

Music, birds and flowers in the saloon! 

Gladsome light and warmth in the saloon! 

If advertised as it should be, 

Not bloom but blood would mark its portals; 

Skeletons would hang among the flowers and trel- 
lised vines; 

Instead of music from within, 

Would come the maniac's scream and curses of 
the damned. 

Who enter now? Young men with life before; 

Old men with light and joy and hope behind. 

Gray hairs in the saloon; 

Clustering brown hairs in the saloon! 



82 FOURSQUARE ' 

Who enter next? men on whose shoulders rest 
Responsibilities of strong mature manhood; 
Men who with voice and pen do shape the nation's 

destiny ! 
What scenes before the startled vision rise! 
If men could see the tendency — 
The ghost of undone duties left behind, 
The silent influences that go from them, 
The imps of darkness — 
But they only see the glint and glitter; 
They are strong and safe, they think, 
And they can laugh at others' fears. 

Scene Third. 

'Tis midnight's holy hour; the clock strikes twelve. 
Across the floor there goes a tottering form 
Which pauses at the door 
To' cast a glance at him who pours the, beverage of 

hell. 
The money clinks into his cofifers. 
And a face the pride of some poor mother's heart, 
Goes out into the night toward home — 
Home did I say? A mansion beautiful, 
Rich furniture in its apartments stands 
And costly pictures hang upon the walls. 
While culture, wealth and love 
Combine to make it home indeed. 
His people have long since returned from church; 
Bright visions of the Heaven of which they heard 
Float round each quiet pillow — What is that? 
A strong hand grasps the door-knob, 
Rings the bell with sudden violence, waking all 

within, 



AND FULL-ORBED 83 

It can't be Willie, for he has a key ; 

Ah, tfiat night-key, it is useless now. 

Pohcemen enter; 

Upon the sofa lay the limp form of a boy, almost 
a man. 

"My boy is drunk," falls from the mother's lips, 

And echoes through the corridors of home. 

The father walks the home in silence. 

And the sisters sit in tears. 

Oh, how like mockery those pictures that the min- 
ister had drawn! 

Scene Fourth. 

The church-bell rings again, 
But not with merry peal for joyful worshipers. 
It is in measured tones — a funeral knell. 
With slow and measured tread, 
The people take their places in the pews. 
Within a casket richly-carved and costly, 
There lies before the pulpit, 
Pale and pulseless now, a boyish form. 
The locks are beautiful and lovely still. 
And when they're parted from the manly brow,. 
There is a scar which tells its own sad tale. 
The minister begins to read : 
'T am the resurrection and the life," 
But loud above the words the echo cries: 
"That mother, does she hear? 
She who had borne that boy in sorrow 
And his infant steps had guided? 
Does that father hear, whose heart is crushed and 
bleeding 



84 FOURSQUARE 

And do those sisters hear?" 

The minister continues, reading: 

*'He that believeth in me, though he were dead," 

But louder still the echo peals : 

"No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God." 

"There is a way that seemeth right to man 

The end whereof is death." 

n n n 

n n 

n 



OLD MEMORIES. 

They come with scent of flowers or music's strain, 

Those little incidents of joy or pain, 

Of days long past; in waves of sadness sweep 

Their recollections o'er the soul ; we weep 

At words dead lips have spoken, looks that eyes 

Long closed have given into ours, and rise 

To touch the vanished hand. Ah, well, if death, 

And not the falseness of a broken faith 

Is cause of desolation; from the flowers 

Of earth we then can look through sorrow's 

showers 
To brighter realms beyond a fairer sky; 
Where re-united in the Bye-and-Bye, 
Our joys will be tenfold as great as lay 
In days our memories have stored away. 

But memory, with unrequited pain. 
Oft proves a cross to crucify again. 



AND FULL-ORBED 85 

What visions of the past arise when we 

Kneel by some trunk or long closed drawer, and 

see 
And touch with tender fingers its contents. 
The faded silk about which cling the scents 
Of other days, old letters which we shrink 
From reading; we are changed, too changed we 

think 
To read those letters now ; so with a sigh 
We lay them down; an old book greets the eye; 
We idly turn the pages to and fro, 
And find — ^where we had placed it long ago 
Between the well-worn leaves, in faded glory — 
Each token lies and tells its simple story. 

A fragment shows how sweet love's dream can be 

And breathes unguarded vows of constantcy; 

All printed words recede before the eyes 

As from the past forgotten dreams arise. 

Another book, dog-eared; we open it, 

And there between two pages lies a bit 

Of sweet-briar — sweet though it has lain 

For years between those pages. Tears and pain 

With dawning recollections come. The sill 

Of country church by which 'twas seen; the still 

Sweet Sabbath evening lingers near our hearts, 

And one who plucked the spray — but all departs; 

The visions fade, for nothing here can last; 

Our lives thus turn to ashes of the past. 

We can no longer look into the box; 

We shut the lid and turn the key which locks 

It from our view, and feel that we must not 



86 FOURSQUARE 

Too often venture into things forgot. 

It is not good to wake these memories 

Too oft. Let them sleep on till we ourselves 

Sleep too; unless, not ended is the dream, 

Nor fled the joy; the sweetness does not seem 

Less sweet with passing years; if this be so 

The fount of dear old memories may flow 

With the increasing joy that they impart, 

In a refreshing stream across the heart. 

Through gates of time unlocked by phantom 

fingers, 
A radiance shines; a tender halo lingers. 

D D D 

D n 

D 



HOME OF CHILDHOOD. 

While sitting 'neath these cool and shady bowers, 
Fond memory roams to other scenes and hours; 
Bright flowers I see and warbling birds I hear, 
But memory brings me birds and flowers more 

dear. 
There is a spot where memory loves to rest; 
A scene whose image pictured in my breast. 
Is twined with all that's beautiful and dear; 
With all that weeps affection's mournful tear. 
My childhood's home by soft and sunny glades. 
By daisied pastures mixed with forest shades, 
By twittering birds that flit from tree to tree, 
And by sweet wild flowers I'll remember thee. 



AND FULL-ORBED 87 

How often to that childhood home, its flight 
My fancy speeds and Hngers with delght. 
I reach the spot familiar smiles to share. 
But unknown voices hear — they are not there. 
Yet flight of years nor distance can efface 
The memory of that consecrated place. 
Where recollections made by time more dear, 
Are fondly treasured up, my age to cheer. 
How oft the time in life's exulting spring, 
Do I recall, when first I tried to sing, 
And learn to love, the bard's inspiring strain, 
And would rejoice to live those years again! 

Bright relics of the past still left to me, 

A solace till I reach eternity — 

A solace that my heart will seek to cheer, 

A heart that feels the loss of treasures dear. 

The earth is beautiful, serene the sky 

Here where the plain and mountains meet the eye. 

And sweetest music softly murmurs near; 

Nature in gaudiest dress does now appear. 

But not the mountain, plain or joyous earth 

Can teach forgetfulness of land of birth; 

Chained by the ties that only death can sever. 

My theme shall be my childhood home, forever. 

My mother's hand was laid upon my head, 
As out into the world with hope I sped; 
And still I feel the pressure of that hand 
Though far away from home and native land ; 
And still I hear her sadly say goodbye 
As tears suffuse the voice and fill the eye. 
Once more within the yard I gather flowers; 



88 FOURSQUARE 

In woodland wander — rest beneath those bowers — 
But these are dreams, bright fragments of the 

past; 
Far, far from home my ship is sailing fast 
O'er life's rough sea; lights flash along the shore — 
My childhood's home I'll see thy face no more. 

D D D 

n D 



A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 

A vision rises to my view 

From far-off, happy days of old: 
A sweet, frank face and eyes of blue, 

And hair that shone like gold: 
Fresh crowned with college victory. 

The boast and idol of his class; 
With heart as pure and warm and free, 

As sunshine on the grass; 
A figure sinewy, lithe and strong, 

A laugh infectious in its glee, 
A voice as beautiful as song 

When heard along the sea. 

The air was rich with fumes ol wine. 
When next we met. 'Twas at a feast; 

And he, the boy I thought divine, 
Was the unhallowed priest; 

There was the once familiar grace, 
The old enhanting smile was there, 



AND FULL-ORBED 89 

Still shone around his handsome face 

The glory of his hair; 
But often when the laugh was loud, 

And highest gleamed the circling bowl, 
I saw — what unseen passed the crowd — 

The shadow on his soul. 

We met once more. In strident tones 

He begged for alms — I knew for what; 
The tremor shivering through his bones, 

Was eloquent of the sot; 
He clutched the coins I gave and fled 

With muttering words of horrid glee, 
When like the white returning dead. 

An image rose before me: 
A nameless something in the air, 

A sudden gesture as it moved — 
'Twas he, the gay, the debonnair, 

'Twas he, the boy I loved. 

n n n 

n n 

n 



DRIFTED APART. 

We grew in childhood side by side; 

Together roamed the meadows wide; 

Together plucked the forest flowers. 

And deemed the weeks but pleasant hours; 

Together traced the winding brook, 

Till every ripple in its look 



90 FOURSQUARE 

Familiar grew; we heard the song 

Of birds, as hand in hand along 

We strolled and watched the skies above 

Where angels smiled upon our love. 

Oh sweet as brooks our souls did glide 
As joy and hope to birds replied. 
But rivers now between us roll; 
Apart we struggle for life's goal, 
And bear its grief without a sigh; 
Apart we'll lay us down to die. 

D n n 
n □ 



MY FIRST SWEET-HEART. 

'Twas many years ago, and we 
Were not as now apart, 
And yet somehow I can't forget 
That girl, my first sweet-heart. 

Her name I carved upon a tree; 
The brook was running clear; 
The birds were singing just above, 
Their merry songs of cheer. 

The bees hummed love-songs to the flowers, 
Whose sweets the air was filling; 
Meanwhile a new and tender love 
Two childish hearts was thrilling. 



AND FULL-ORBED • 91 

Ah me! The years have borne me on 
Beyond' those foolish ways; 
That first sweet dream of life is past 
Away with childhood's days. 



D D D 

D D 

D 



WE SAID GOOD-NIGHT. 

We said "good-night." The bloom of summer- 
time was autumn-kissed; 

The tender gray of evening waned in the amber 
mist, 

And twilight shadows gathered as we left our fare- 
well tryst. 

A low wind whispered softly o'er the golden-rod's 

sweet face, 
And rustling leaves were sighing of a lover's last 

embrace. 
"Stand still my steed while I review the scene; 

this is the place." 

'Twas here I said "Good-night, dear love," and 

she replied to me, 
"Good-night; when spring-time comes again then 

shall the dawning be." 
"As true as is the golden-rod so I'll remain to thee." 



92 FOURSQUARE 

"Then draw me closer, darling, see the light is 

fading fast, 
As we have clung together in the light that now 

is past. 
So in the gathering darkness we will cling unto 

the last." 

"Not all of darkness, darling, for whatever may 

befall 
Us in my absence, still love's sweetness may the 

heart enthrall, 
And the light of love keep burning on to brighten 

all." 

The harvest-moon was shining as we gave our 

farewell kiss. 
We met no more — love's reckoning how oft we 

mortals miss; 
Love's golden fruit is garnered in a brighter world 

than this. 

n n n 
n n 

D 



BY DROOPING WILLOWS. 

I stand where drooping willows 
Bend o'er the shadowed stream; 
Where white in summer star-shine 
The silver lilies gleam. 
I hear the reeds and rushes, 



AND FULL-ORBED 93 

The night wind^s trembling sigh 
That finds in my heart an echo 
Of the days that have gone by. 

The leaves are all awhisper 

In the trees that bend above; 

And from the distant woodland,^ 

A night bird sings his love. 

Through the fragrant ferns and hedges 

The murmuring river flows, 

With its same low song of gladness, 

The song that memory knows. 

On the water's tranquil bosom 
The stars their glory cast; 
But its beauty seems a phantom 
Of the sweet and hallowed past. 
For oh! Those days of gladness 
Have winged their joyous flight. 
And left me but their memory 
To cheer the lonely night. 

For time has wrought such changes 
That e'en the well-known stream 
Seems strangely unfamiliar 
The memory of a dream. 
Alas, the heart's emotions 
Have changed with fleeting years, 
And nature's smile is saddened^ 
When viewed through memory's tears. 

The sweet mirage has faded, 
The summer stars have paled; 



94 FOURSQUARE 

For youthful joys have perished 
And early hopes have failed. 
The river sighs in sadness 
The song it sang of yore, 
For oh! The charm is broken — 
The past returns no more. 

D D n 
D n 

D 



A SUMMER DAY. 

One long sweet day of perfect rest, 

One happy day of peace divine, 
From golden dawn to twilight blest, 

I've called each passing moment mine. 
No future years with frost and blight, 

No wintry gloom with storm clouds gray. 
Can ever cover from my sight, 

The memory of that perfect day. 

The morning broke in rosy light, 

The birds poured forth their flood of song; 
The dewdrops sparkled, jewel-bright, 

Amid the grasses green and long. 
The winds from heaven blew fresh and sweet, 

'Twas joy to breathe the fragrant air, 
The daisies clustered at my feet. 

And life was glad and earth was fair. 

The hush of noontide's gentle calm 
Stole on my spirit like a spell, 



AND FULL-ORBED 95 

And like a soft and soothing balm, 

Upon my breast its solace fell. 
No bird sang in the quiet glade, 

The wind itself was hushed and still; 
The flowers drooped within the shade, 

The breezes slept upon the hill. 

The long bright hours winged their flight, 

The clouds grew golden in the west, 
Their gorgeous tint and glorious light 

Reflected in the river's breast. 
Beyond the mountains far and blue. 

ToO' quickly sank the setting sun; 
The flowers slept beneath the dew — 

And then the golden day was done. 

nan 

n n 

n 



THE DESERTED ROSE-TREE. 

I rambled, on a summer eve, 

A shady path along; 

The air was rich with breath of flowers, 

And wild with merry song. 

A lane I passed, a tiny brook 
On mossy pebbles crossed. 
And to a green enclosure came 
Where the rude path was lost. 



96 FOURSQUARE 

There, half-concealed by branching trees, 
That wreathed their bowers around, 
Stod a small cottage, tenantless, 
And crumbling to the ground. 

Near it, 'mid grasses waving high, 
A rose-bush blossomed fair. 
The last of many pleasant things 
That once were cherished there. 

No loving eye, as formerly, 
To scan its beauty came; 
Yet, in the tender light, it spread 
Its fragrant bloom the same. 

Thus, when from life its pleasures fade, 
And friendships die away. 
When slowly withering one by one, 
Its transient hopes decay — 

Alone in the forsaken home; 

With sweet, perennial grace, 

Let thankful Memory, lingering still, 

Make glad the desert place. 



AND FULL-ORBED 97 

REFLECTIONS; INKLINGS AND 
HERALDS. 

Oh, sweet as the breath of the blossoms in May, 
And sad as the evening's tender gray 
By the latest luster of sunset kissed, 
That wavers and wanes in the amber mist, 
Are the dream-laden sails that are wafted to me 
From the long ago shores of Memory's Sea. 

Oh, charming as silvery far-ofif sails, 

And calm as the sleeping, peaceful vales, 

Alluring as music's bewitching strain, 

Or the spell of Autumn on wood and plain, 

Are the heralds that come like an angel's smile. 

From the shoreless ocean of Afterawhile. 

D n D 
n n 

n 



LIFE'S BOUNDLESS OCEAN. 

We're roaming, roving, on a boundless sea, 
Where waves are high and winds are fierce and 

free; 
The wild birds sail about in tireless flight, 
As sunrise scatters all the shades of night. 
The porpoise and the dolphin sport and play 
In liquid realm of blue and green and gray; 
And oft at midnight when the moon hangs low, 
Or when the stars beam forth with mystic glow, 



98 FOURSQUARE 

We think that with the phosphorescent wave, 
WeM gladly sink into our ocean grave. 

For oh, the sea with sound of endless wailing. 
Of vanquished hearts sick with remorse and fail- 
ing, 
Dashes above our heads its blinding spray, 
And moans their griefs at set of Autumn day; 
And ever round us swells the insatiate ocean 
With its wild billows in their mad commotion. 
To sweep us down to fearful gloom unlighted; 
Till on the shores arriving lone, benighted, 
We slip, we fall, our little life thus ended — 
Or in its bosom gathered, comprehended. 

O mystery! O, deep and restless ocean, 

Earth's generations watch thy ceaseless motion. 

As in and out thy hollow moanings flow, 

And surge and wail for ages to and fro; 

The mighty tide that rolls from other lands, 

Whose echo dashes on these wave-worn strands — 

The vague dark tumult of the inner sea, 

'Of crushing fate, of stony irony — 

We strive, submit; we curse, ask heaven to bless, 

While riding in earth's chariot of distres. 

Oh, there is anguish on the Sea of Life, 
Despair and sorrow, misery and strife; 
The billows how they toss and moan and roar. 
And plunge against the ever-changing shore; 
The wild waves how they struggle, foam and dash 
Against the rocks with harsh, tumultuous crash ; 
With haste and hurry, scurrying here and there, 



AND FULL-ORBED 99 

And racing, striving, hurrying everywhere ; 
O sea, O restless, storm-tossed, anguished sea. 
Quiet and peaceful thou can'st never be! 

And yet, O, sea, from whom our breath we draw, 
All that our hands have wrought to thee we owe; 
If we have labored, well our tasks have done, 
The strength thou gavest hath our victories won. 
Have we writ large in letters graved in stone, 
The message of our strength, it is thine own. 
Hope of our life, we greet thee in thy might! 
Strength of our life, be with us in our fight! 
Heart of our life, why scourge us with thy whips? 
Life of our life, why swallow up our ships? 

n n D 

n n 

n 



SONNETS. 

Two Temples. 

Man builds for time, God for eternity; 

And though the Roman Arch and ponderous pile 

Which Moses looked on by the hoary Nile, 

Seem still to scorn man's tyrannous decree, 

And claim an everlasting right to be, 

Yet over these, that stood erect erstwhile. 

The desert sand shall flow, or verdure smile, 

While endless moments tread on silently. 

But God's foundations lie upon the rock 

Of deathless love and co-eternal power; 



loo FOURSQUARE 

His monumental truth no force can shock, 
No slow decay or sudden flame devour; 
God's temple shall the flight of Aeons mock, 
And high above the dust of ages tower. 

Life and Immortality. 

Two mighty angels of the Lord of Hosts 

Swept to our earth from realms beyond the sky, 

Fulfilling thus the service of their posts, 

Homeward a saintly soul to bear on high; 

Their names were Life and Immortality. 

The angel Life saith, "Here they call me death, 

And when life comes to souls, men say they die, 

And thou too art with them a passing breath." 

"This is not right," the other angel saith, 

''The soul that soars to heaven should still abide 

On earth till time shall end, and life (called 

death) 
Shall over sin and pain victorious ride, 
Its influence pouring in a love divine 
On human hearts that hold it as a shrine." 

Memory. 

O sad-eyed sister of our sweetest dreams. 
How luminous thy smile that lights the hour 
Of by-gone tenderness, or toil, or power; 
Than which all present life unlovelier seems! 
And when thou speakest, how large an echo 

streams 
From each clear word ! How perfect, like a flower. 
Each scene stands forth! And with a royal dower 
Of dear regret, dew-pearled, thine eyelash gleams! 



AND FULL-ORBED loi 

Silent, invisible, thou followest; 

Thy presence every hour is near our path; 

Until one day we turn in eager quest, 

To learn, alas! Time has no aftermath; 

But thee we find; and, lo! thy hair is dressed, 

With flowers of asphodel and amaranth. 

Patience. 

Far in the golden prime of earth's first dawn, 

When beauty reigned supreme on land and sea, 

Two maidens. Faith and Hope, fleet as the fawn 

That races to its mother o'er the lea, 

Passed to pay homage to their peerless queen ; 

And in the passing caught the artist's power 

To fashion into form what they had seen 

Of charm and beauty in that golden hour. 

They wrought one form divine, whose graces slept 

In every sweeping line and graceful curve; 

Then gazing on their fair creation, wept 

For skill to quicken life along the nerve. 

And lo! Love came in rosy radiance wreathed. 

She touched those perfect lips, and Patience 



breathed. 



Beautiful Lives. 



How beautiful the meanest life may be! 

How noble may become the lowliest lives! 

Like some poor sea-shell that perchance contrives 

To anchor to a rock, or, being free, 

Is tossed about in surge of stormy sea; 

Against environment he feebly strives, 

In dim and gnarled exterior survives; 



102 FOURSQUARE 

Yet irridescent as the rainbow, he 
Within bears precious pearls of greatest price; 
So to the outward seeming life may be 
Rough, inconspicuous — a shell of sighs, 
Yet have the great and good for company 
And inwardly with beauty gleam, and see 
Bright visions, and to loftiest ideals rise. 

A Saint in Heaven. 

Along sequestered paths her spirit trod, 

And shunned the highways and the world's hot 

glare; 
You knew her for a chosen child of God, 
Who breathed his graces as her native air, 
But ne'er forgot her Father's loving care. 
Upright in soul before her fellowman. 
Her high-born dignity bent down to share 
Each common woe that mars life's rounded plan. 
The oil of gladness in her hand she bore, 
And poured it as a balm for every wound, 
And lightened every fellow sufferer's lot; 
So grateful eyes saw in her garb no spot, 
But angel's vestments, and beheld her crowned — 
But ah! shall I her loved face see no more? 



AND FULL-ORBED 103 

THE POWER TO FORGET. 

Of all the myriad blessings day by day 

That bloom, like flowers along life's dusty way. 

Oh, is not this the greatest of them yet, 

The power to remember or forget ! 

How tragic could we not recall, relive, 

The golden hours that memory can give! 

Those simple things — oh how they linger long — 

The sunset sky, the look, the word, the song. 

The sacred griefs that time can ne'er destroy 

Are changed by alchemy of years to joy; 

How blest that we may keep them for our own. 

In secret shrines commune with them alone. 

But oh! the things that vex, that wound or fret — 

Ah what a boon, the power to forget! 

n n D 

n n 

n 



LOST FRIENDS. 

They are not lost who lie in peaceful rest 
Beneath their winding sheet of church-yard snow; 
Whose hands are folded o'er the pulseless breast 
Who with our tears and kisses were laid low. 
They are not lost; for still within the heart 
Their image lives, forever fond and dear; 
And as the changing years of life depart, 
Their presence grows more precious and more 
near. 



IQ4 FOURSQUARE 

Ah, no! We meet our lost friends face to face, 
We see them daily in our walks of life; 
But in our hearts they hold no more a place 
And white-winged peace has given way to strife. 
We see the eyes where friendship's light was borne 
Grow cold and dark, and droop beneath our gaze; 
And tender lips grow bitter in their scorn 
That spoke so kindly in the bygone days. 

These are the lost. Aye, gone beyond recall! 
No' grave so deep as that of hearts estranged, 
No hope of resurrection from its fall; 
Oblivion hides the friendship that has changed. 
Oh! weep not o^er the loved and precious dead. 
For while our lives are true we have no need. 
But o'er the hearts whence friendship's light has 

fled, 
We well may weep, for they are lost indeed. 



D D n 
n n 

n 



LOVE AND GOOD NATURE. 

I. 

There is one plant, alone of all, 

That bloomed in Eden's blissful bowers 
So radiantly before the fall, 

Still blooms in this dark world of ours. 



AND FULL-ORBED 105 

There is a fount that nourishes, 

That sweet and tender plant of Love, 

Until it flowers and flourishes, 

Like those that bloom in Eden above. 

Here, in this elsewise wilderness, 

The fountain still breaks forth and flows; 

Good Nature is that source of bliss. 
And healing balm for human woes. 

2. 
Love kindles in the speaking eye, 
As light illumes the morning sky; 
Now, beaming forth in pleasant smile, 
As if a fairy's gentle wile, 
Now flashing through the silent tear, 
As diamonds in a fountain clear. 

Love rules within the heart's domain. 
Though every hope of fortune wane, 
Sways thought and feeling, hope and will, 
From torrent's rush to gentle rill; 
Exalts to pleasure pure and bright. 
And blesses still in sorrow's night. 

3. 

A bright and sunny nature 

Is better far than gold; 
It drowns the daily sorrows 

Of young as well as old; 
It fills the world with pleasure 

In field and home and street, 
And brightens every prospect 

Wherever mortals meet. 



io6 FOURSQUARE 

A bright and sunny nature 

Can make the world akin, 
And lift a load of sorrow 

From burdened backs of sin, 
Diffusing light and knowledge 

Through thorny paths of life, 
And gild with silver lining 

The thunder-clouds of strife. 

A bright and sunny nature 

On land or ocean wave. 
Irradiates the pathway 

To light beyond the grave; 
And when our tour is finished, 

And we are called above — 
We'll leave behind bright memories 

And bask in light and love. 

D n D 

n n 

n 



A CHRISTMAS APPEAL. 

O, Kings and Czars and Kaisers of the earth, 

On this the day we celebrate the birth 

Of Him who came to be the Prince of Peace — 

O, rulers of the world, let warfare cease! 

No longer let the sound of fife or drum. 

Of horn or trumpet, campward calling come 

To vex the world with dread and strife, and make 



AND FULL-ORBED iQ^ 

The hearts of sweethearts, wives and mothers 

ache. 
Leave battleflags to moth, decay and dust. 
Let guns and armored cars grow red with rust. 

When angels sang o'er hills of Bethlehem, 
Of "peace on earth" and of ''good will to men," 
They voiced in song, but God's eternal plan 
Of fellowship — the brotherhood of man. 
How men have fallen from their high estate. 
To use Christ's name to justify their hate, 
To plant the howitzer upon the hill, 
And use the air and ocean but to kill! 
Earth groans today with carnage: Let it cease. 
And usher in a thousand years of peace. 

O, is it not the lust for gold and gain. 

The greed that blinds and cripples heart and 

brain. 
The pride that makes not character but birth, 
Not mind but wealth, the standard of man's 

worth — 
O, are not these, combined with hate and cause 
Of wars? When love shall rule, instead of laws 
Made by the few or by the multitude 
For selfish ends and not the common good — 
When pride and avarice and hate shall cease. 
Oh, then shall come millenniums of peace! 

But, shall we wait for kings, O, brothers near? 
Let us with reverent thought and Christmas 

cheer, 
Swing wide the heart's closed doors and let us 

say : 



io8 FOURSQUARE 

"All men are kin: We will make glad the day," 
This glorious Christmas day, clasp hands and 

break 
Once more the bread of friendship for His sake ; 
Your hand, my brother! Lo, I see afar! 
The light of Bethlehem's inspiring star, 
And hark! I hear the angels singing still 
Of "peace on earth^' and of "tO' men good will." 

D D n 

D n 

n 



ADDRESS TO THE WAR-GODS. 

Mighty monarchs, mighty rulers, 
We have heard your thunder call. 
And we've heard the woeful wailings 
For your valiant sons that fall, 
For the flower of your armies 
On the field of battle slain. 
While the evil god still triumphs; 
On whose banner rests the stain? 
Of the future, would you know, 
When war's fires shall cease to glow? 
Of your fate, if weal or woe — 
Understand you this or no? 

Could I sing a song of Saga, 
Could I chant a runic rhyme. 
Weave a grand prophetic Edda 
From the scattered threads of time, 



AND FULL-ORBED 109 

Still my lines would fail tO' tell you 
Of the fate the world shall mourn, 
Till the leaves that bear the record 
Of the future have been torn. 
Mighty nations come and go, 
Other stars the night shall know, 
Out of ruin beauty grow — 
Understand you this or no? 

Crowns shall fall and earth shall tremble 
With a stern, resistless blow. 
Which shall rend the world asunder 
As the day of Waterloo. 
When that day of re-creation 
Brings the buried truth to light 
There will be a world-wide nation — 
Though your eyes be dark with night; 
Then my meaning all shall know; 
Out of evil good shall grow, 
Monarchs, crowns, and thrones must go- 
Understand you this or no? 

D n n 
n n 



PASSING OF THE STORM-GOD. 

The shadows chase the light of stricken day 
O'er mystic wastes and silent hills away; 
Dark fleeting ships o'er airy oceans go 
And veil the silvery queen from eyes below. 



no FOURSQUARE 

The voice of Jove resounds and gathers near, 
While mountains grim grow dark and quake with 

fear; 
And Vulcan from his seat on billows high, 
Beholds the crimson flash that cleaves the sky. 

The cricket's chirp beneath the cold hearth-stone 

Falls on the soul in dreary monotone ; 

The north wind's chilling breath and mournful 

sigh 
Bring drops like tears from an immortal eye. 

But see! the somber cloud is fringed with gold; 
The storm, a zephyr, blows no longer cold; 
The captive moon has freedom found at last; 
A silent star peeps forth; the storm is past. 

n D n 

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THE REVELATION. 

Standing on the Rock of Ages, 

I look across the sea. 
And vainly strive to read the pages 

Of vast futurity. 

The apocalypse of every cloud 

Upon the far-off sky, 
I try to read; I cry aloud; 

And hear the echoed cry. 



AND FULL-ORBED in 

And as I look and weep and pray, 

And wonder why I'm here, 
The black death-ship arrives for me, 

To bear me otherwhere. 

Ah, well; 'tis manned by friendly hands, 

No harm, it brings to me; 
It bears me on to better lands 

Across the silent sea. 

Soon breaks the light on the ocean waste; 

Vibrations fill the sky, 
And o'er the sea I pass in haste — 

Pass to eternity. 

D n n 

n n 

n 



THE PILGRIM'S LAST PRAYER. 

God of my hope, I am a wanderer; 

My life has been misspent; my cup of sin 

Is full, O Lord! I am a transgressor 

Of thy most holy laws — so, long have been; 

But now I look to thee to be my guide; 

O Father of the helpless, turn me not aside. 

The day is done; slow fades my life's last 
spark ; 

The rain descends; the night is growing dark; 

My path is lost, I know not where I roam ; 



112 FOURSQUARE 

The way is rough ; I'm far away from home. 
My strength is spent ; my face in grief I hide ; 
O Father of the helpless, turn me not aside. 

God of my hope my feet are bare and torn; 

My limbs are faint; my thoughts turn but tO' thee; 

My sight grows dim, O leave me not alone; 

The stream of life flows swiftly to the sea. 

The waves are splashing on the darkened tide; 

O Father of the helpless, turn me not aside. 
Oft have I followed other steps than thine, 
Dimmed in my soul the sacred fire divine; 
Doubt and temptation, ere thy love had 

stirred 
My soul, had conquered; but my cry is heard 
Out of the depths; in thee I would abide, 
O Father of the helpless, turn me not aside. 



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D n 

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TRANSLATIONS. 
From the Arabic. 

The morn that ushered thee to life, my child, 
Saw thee in tears whilst all around thee smiled! 
When summoned hence by the eternal sleep, 
O mayst thou smile while all around thee weep. 



AND FULL-ORBED 113 

From the Sanscrit. 

The empty beds of rivers fill again ; 
Trees leafless now, renew their vernal bloom; 
Returning moons their lustrous phase resume; 
But man a second youth expects in vain. 

Again the moon returns, again the night; 
Again the sun, the moon, ascend the sky; 
Our lives still waste away as summers fly — 
Ah ! who, our final welfare keeps in sight ? 

From the Greek. 

If thou would'st know of what frail stuflf thou'rt 

made, 
Go to the tombs of the illustrious dead ; 
There rest the kings, and there the tyrant lies; 
There sleep the rich, the noble and the wise; 
There beauty's fairest form, ambition, pride, 
All dust alike, have mouldered side by side. 
Reflect on these and see in them thyself. 
Whose name is frailty, and whose future, death. 

From the Latin. 

I shall no feeble pinion bear 

In ordinary flight. 

Sublimely soaring through the air 

To realms of liquid light ; 

A power divine exalts my far renown 

High o'er the vulgar crowd and envious town. 

What though of humble parents born 
To me no clients bend ; 



114 FOURSQUARE 

Thou dost not, oh, Maecenis, scorn 
To call the bard thy friend ; 
Nor shall I moulder in oblivion's grave, 
Nor linger captive by the Stygian wave. 

Mortal no more ! On wings I soar^ 

And steer my tuneful flight, 

Where Hellespontic billows roar 

Mid straits and islands bright. 

My song shall charm the world from Afric's coast 

To farthest fields of Hyperborean frost. 

Be no funereal wailing heard. 

Let no vain incense burn 

Above the spot where is interred 

The poet's vacant urn; 

Compose all idle clamor, nor presume 

To rear superfluous honors on my tomb. 

From the Persian. 

In vain with love our bosoms glow ; 
Can all our tears, can all our sighs, 
New luster to those charms impart? 
Can cheeks where living roses blow. 
Where nature spreads her richest dyes, 
Require the borrowed gloss of art? 

Go boldly forth, my simple lay. 

Whose accents flow with artless ease, 

Like orient pearls at random strung; 

Thy notes are sweet the damsels say; 

But oh, far sweeter if they please 

The nymph for whom these notes are sung. 



AND FULL-ORBED 115 

From the Chinese. 

What is called Nature, has been given ; 

Wholly was conferred on Man by Heaven. 

An accordance with the Nature, truly 

Is by sages called the Path of Duty. 

All connected with the regulation 

Of the Path, is rightly called Instruction. 

No departure may, however small. 

E'er be made — 'twould be no path at all. 

Than a secret, naught's more clearly seen ; 

What's minute, there's nothing greater been. 

Equilibrium is the state of mind 
Where no stirrings are, of any kind ; 
Anger, pleasure, joy, revenge or sorrow. 
Hatred, hope or fear of the tomorrow ; 
Where these feelings act in due degree, 
There ensues the state of Harmony. 
Let Equilibrium and Harmony 
Perfectly exist, and there will be 
Happiness and order which will nourish 
Every Virtue; Heaven and Earth will flourish. 

Heaven we see, is but a shining bit ; 
Viewed in its extent it has no limit. 
Earth before us, but a little soil ; 
It sustains deep seas and mountains tall. 
Mountains seem but particles of stone; 
Yet have trees and grass and beasts thereon. 
Waters that appear a ladle-full, 
Are, to larger view unfathomable, 
/^//-embracing as the sea and mountain. 



ii6 FOURSQUARE ' ^ 

Deep and active as abyss and fountain. 
Equal both of Earth and Heaven is he, 
Only, who pursues the Path of Duty. 

From the Japanese. 

This thing I call myself, how profitless 
That I should think of it at all ; for lo ! 
It soon will be resolved to nothingness 
And scattered to the vagrant winds that blow. 

Although at death I shudder at the thought — 
To say farewell to life just now how sad ! 
Yet when I think of it, this life is naught, 
And leaving naught behind cannot be bad. 

'Tis but a dew that sparkles on the leaf. 

And sparkling melts; or like the dreams that pass, 

With those who dream them and their joy and 

grief, 
Into the vast abyss of nothingness. 

We watch the changing phases of the moon 
From crescent back to crescent; thus we see. 
While gazing on the transient show, how soon 
We too must change — alas, or cease to be. 

From the Polish. 

My Arab steed is black — 

Black as the tempest cloud that flies 

Across the dark and muttering skies 

And leaves a gloomy track. 

Hoofs shod with lightning's glare; 



AND FULL-ORBED 117 

I give the winds his flowing mane 
And spur him smoking o'er the plain, 
And none may even dare 
My path to chase. Thus vain 
My bard like lightning flies; 
I gaze upon the moonlit skies, 
And see the stars with golden eyes 
Look down upon the plain. 

From the Italian. 

If everyone's internal care 
Were written on his brow. 
How many would our pity share 
Who raise our envy now ! 

The fatal secret, when revealed 

Of every aching breast, 

Would prove that only while concealed, 

Their lot appeared the best. 

From the French. 

I knew them in my bloom, these hills and heath^ 
These quiet walks sweetened by lover's breath; 
I knew the fir trees in their sombre green, 
The careless byways of the deep ravine; 
The copses where my whole youth, as I pass 
Awakes; sweet scenes, too fair, too frail alas; 
Oh, from my bleeding heart let flow the tears ; 
Leave on my eyes this veil of the dead years. 

Since from thy star I caught one brilliant beam. 
Now veiled alas, forever from my gaze; 



ii8 FOURSQUARE 

Since fell upon my life's full-flowing stream, 
One rose-leaf torn from thy young joyous days ; 
Now I can say, while flit the passing hours, 
Pass, pass forever; I no more grow old; 
Fleet- foot away with all your faded flowers; 
One-fliower, no hand can cull, my heart shall hold. 

From the Russian. 

When the dangerous rocks are past. 
When the threatening tempests cease. 
Oh, how sweet to rest at last 
In a silent port of peace ! 

Though that port may be unknown. 
Though no chart its name may bear. 
Brightly beam its lights on one 
Blest to find his refuge there. 

Life, thou ai-t the storm and rocks; 
Death, the friendly port thou art. 
Haven from the tempest-shocks. 
Welcoming the wanderer's heart. 

From the Servian. 

They had been wedded in their youth. 
Together they had spent their bloom; 
Their hearts asunder torn in ruth — 
That was their cruel, crushing doom. 

"Go forth," she said, ''pursue thy way; 
But some fair garden should'st thou see. 
Alone among the arbors stray, 
A rose-leaf fresh, pluck thou for me. 



AND FULL-ORBED 119 

And on thy breast that fresh leaf lay; 
And note how soon 'twill fade and die, 
From thee my stay and stem away; 
Observe, for that poor leaf am I." 

*'And thou, my soul," the soldier said, 
*'When I am wandering faint and far, 
Go thou to our own greenwood shade. 
The marble fount, the golden jar. 

'*At noon I filled my jar with wine, 
And dropped therein a ball of snow ; 
Lay that on this warm heart of thine. 
And while it melts, behold my woe." 

From the Spanish. 

O limpid stream with banks so fair and gay, 
Mid verdant meads and groves in green array! 
O crystal dews that in the morning ray. 
With silvery hues make field and forest gay ! 
O wood whose branches wave when zephyrs play 
O'er sands where oft her careless footsteps stray I 
O birds that still salute the rising day, 
And fill the world with your enchanting lay! 
If anywhere my love should hap to be* — 
Ask if her heart retain a thought of me. 

From the German. 

Three lessons I would write. 
As with a golden pen, 
In tracings of eternal light. 
Upon the hearts of men. 



120 FOURSQUARE 

Have hope! The clouds around 
May hide the sun and scorn, 
But soon its brightness shall be found; 
ISTo night but has its morn. 

Have faith! Wherever driven 

Thy bark, mid woe or mirth, 

Know this: God rules the hosts of heaven 

And peoples of the earth. 

Have love! Mankind is one; 
Then Man thy brother call; 
And scatter like the circling sun 
Thy charities to all. 

Thus grave upon thy soul 
These words, and thou shalt find 
Strength, when Life's surges maddest roll. 
Light, when thou else wert blind. 

From the Danish. 

Sorrow and gladness together go wending; 
Evil and good come in quick interchange ; 
Fair and foul fortune forever are blending ; 
Sunshine and clouds have the skies for their range. 
Gold of earth's day is but splendid clay; 
Alone heaven's happiness lasteth alway. 

Oh, let then my lot and my life be appointed 
Just as Jehovah, my Lord, seeth meet ; 
Let the wicked go on still for evil anointed. 



AND FULL-ORBED 121 

And the world have its way, till the end is com- 
plete, 
Time's tree will cast its leaves on the blast, 
And heaven make everything right at the last. 

From the Portuguese. 

I saw the virtuous man contend 
With life's unnumbered woes, 
And he was poor, without a friend. 
Pressed by a thousand foes. 

I saw the passion's pliant slave, 

In gallant trim and gay ; 

His course was pleasure's placid wave. 

His life a summer's day. 

And I was caught in Folly's snare. 
And joined her giddy train ; 
But found her room the nurse of care 
And poverty and pain. 

There surely is some guiding power 
Which rightly suffers wrong; 
Gives vice to bloom its little hour. 
But virtue late and long. 



PART II. 

THROUGH GOD'S REAL 
FAIRYLAND. 



122 FOURSQUARE 



PROLOGUE. 

The bard who would the storied past rehearse, 
Should strike a note unerring in his verse, 
A cypher give that he who runs may read, 
What things the Spirit wrought in word and 

deed. 
Dryden's sonorous lines stale not with time ; 
True art in thought and form still stands sublime 
In Milton's marvelous imaginings ; 
In wood-note wild the Ayrshire plowman sings ; 
Yet who does scorn the pipe so small for fame, 
By Petrarch blown or Browning's gentle dame? 

I leave the trumpet and full-throated horn, 
The martial strain, and sigh of love forlorn, 
To him who smites the loud resounding lyre 
And chants with lips touched by the sacred fire. 
My task to show the patriarchs of eld — 
Small pictures of the past by faith beheld 
That grants dim eyes a sacred second sight — 
The seekers after God by nature's light, 
And saints who witnessed truth in suffering; 
These lofty themes, in narrow bounds, I sing. 

The search of man for God, the mightiest theme 
That can man's thought engage — is it a dream, 
The mind's mirage to lure the doubting sage 
With phantom waters that cannot assuage 
His thirst divine? Or are the spires that gleam 
To eyes unsealed, as real as they seem? 
If crudest clay, by spirit uninformed, 
And not by grace regenerate and warmed, 



AND FULL-ORBED 123 

His body, breath and reason have their day, 
And into nothingness must pass away. 

And yet, these fascinating stories old — 

What wondrous charm though often they be 

told! 
They constitute of childhood's happy days 
Among the earliest sweetest memories — 
These glorious heroes of God's fairyland, 
Real men and women who forever stand 
As sentinels ; they live before our eyes, 
Their virtues great, their awful crimes and vice ! 
There's nothing petty, nothing paltry here. 
And naught that justifies the vacant sneer. 

'Tis not a tale of low life in back streets 

Or life below the stairs that one here meets ; 

No parish gossip, no society 

Of scandal-mongers ; but humanity 

Is viewed upon a vastly grander scale; 

Large virtues, dreadful failures, tell their tale ; 

Large vices, glorious victories belong 

To greatness viewed in righteousness and wrong. 

Man at his greatest whether good or ill, 

Is acted here, real actors, living still. 

These heroes and these heroines are seen 
As men and women — not as the mere machine 
Made perfect ; and we can forget at length 
Their weakness in the presence of their strength. 
Men climb to heights of grandeur who once fell — 
Where is the man that is infallible? 
Shall not his great ascent condone for all 



124 » FOURSQUARE 

A man had sadly lost by one-time fall? 
When thou hast sinned and suffered, who is he 
So small of soul to rake it up to thee? 

No man e'er sins but pays the penalty ; 
'Twas so with these, is it not so with thee? 
Thou dost not know — no man can ever know — 
The agony of mind, the tears that flow. 
The anguish of the soul, the pestilence, 
The dark exile, of others' penitence. 
And when a soul has suffered for his sin, 
Christ-like, we take the wanderer back again ; 
Or if 'tis justice that you seek, stand pat ; 
Our turn is coming, God will see to that. 

These scriptures deal in quite a different way 

From human writers in their history; 

Not in a garb attractive are men decked. 

With principles concealed, as we expect, 

In all profane biography, and see 

In heroes of all human history. 

Here we see men as in a landscape view 

In autumn ; boughs are bare and leaves are few — 

The trees thus stripped, the river's silver sheen 

With distant lakes and mountains plainly seen. 

No foliage of adulation dense. 

No tedious details such as prevents 

A view of men as actually they are — 

Real vision of the hero's character; 

But here the transformation made by grace 

In character we easily can trace. 

These characters are guide-posts for our own. 



AND FULL-ORBED 125 

The Bible is of books the pearl and crown ; 
The softest pillow for life's aching head, 
Balm for its broken heart and dying bed. 

nan 

n n 

n 

ADAM AND EVE. 

Ere Adam sinned and Eve, his comrade, fell 

From loftier heights to lower depths of hell. 

They walked in freedom 'neath a cloudless sky 

And breathed an atmosphere of purity. 

No shadow lay upon the intellect, 

But man his maker's image did reflect. 

A change took place — then forged was error's 

chain 
Which fell athwart the human heart and brain. 
Eve was deceived, believing Satan's lie, 
And Adam ate, and both did surely die. 

The day they sinned their higher nature died. 

And that of their posterity beside ; 

And we can see the fall's effect today, — 

For it is manifest in many a way : 

First, in the blinding of the intellect, 

Man gropes ; no more he sees to walk erect. 

The dormancy of conscience next we see, 

And near it lies the heart's inconstancy. 

Polluted is imagination, and 

The will, perverted, is no longer grand. 



126 FOURSQUARE 

When they had sinned they passed outside the 

gates, 
Expelled from Paradise, the record states; 
The bead of toil and anguish on the brow. 
With pangs at birth and death, their lot is now ; 
Disease awaits their steps with crafty power 
And danger lurks in every lovely flower. 
Eve plucked one flower of Eden on her way. 
The flower of love which blooms on earth today ; 
And of her off-spring, Christ, it then was said : 
The woman's seed shall bruise the serpent's 

head. 

Like man before his disobedience. 
We each have Eden with its innocence. . 
We walked with it in childhood's golden days. 
But we defiled its snow-white lovely face. 
We brushed aside the bright baptismal dew, 
And sought for ease in trying something new. 
As error's frost fell on the mind and heart ; 
We saw the angel's golden wings depart. 
Although the bud of innocence be gone. 
Yet purity abides — the rose full-blown. 



Reason. 

The budding world was in its bloom-strewn 

prime. 
And from it Nature rose, a temple — time 
Its architect, whose work complete, at last, 
Into the pageant a new being passed. 
To fill the void with energy divine; 



AND FULL-ORBED 127 

For beams from sun and moon and stars that 

shine, 
Could not from Nature lift the dreary pall, 
Till man — self-conscious soul — beheld it all 
In the clear light of reason, which to men 
First came through windows opened from 

heaven then. 

n D □ 

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CAIN AND ABEL. 

Was Cain a wicked man who went to hell? 
Was Abel always good? Did he excel 
By nature? No. The difference was in 
Their recognition of the fact of sin ; 
And in the testimony each one brings 
Of attitude toward God, in offerings. 
Cain was a sinner ; so was Abel ; and 
To each of them had come divine command. 
Each born outside the gates of Paradise, 
To stay outside each had a fatal bias. 

Cain was religious — he would never bring. 

If infidel, to God his offering; — 

Which was of fruits and flowers a grand display 

Set on an altar in a fine array. 

Which to perfection by hard work and toil 

His skill and energy had won from soil ; 

Forgetting that for sin the ground was cursed : 



128 FOURSQUARE 

That life is in the blood, as taught from first; 
No doubt he thought that God would not refuse 
This offering, the best earth could produce. 

He waits in vain for any sign from heaven, 

And owns at last that he is unforgiven. 

His offering rejected thus has been, 

He, thus rejected, bears alone his sin. 

What better offering, a man may ask. 

Could Cain have brought than this laborious 

task? 
But he forgets that in Cain's offering 
For sin no substitution does he bring. 
A spotless lamb is on the altar laid 
By Abel when his sacrifice is made. 

Not that its blood could wash away his sin ; 
'Twas but a type, and all the saints have been 
Saved by the blood shed upon Calvary. 
Thus Abel came in God's appointed way. 
Now Cain, a proud self-righteous man was he. 
Rejected, must both sad and angry be. 
A second chance was given him to bring 
To God the proper kind of offering; 
Too proud for this, Cain madly turned away. 
Nor knew the sin toward which his action lay. 

Not for a moment should it be supposed 
That murder in his heart was then proposed; 
But Satan took possession of him then, 
Cain had his chance as have all other men; 
But disregarded, suddenly he "rose 
And slew his brother," so the record goes ; 



AND FULL-ORBED 129 

And then, he said that his iniquity 
Was greater than that could forgiven be. 
This sin beyond forgiveness — was what? 
Was it murder? No; assuredly 'twas not. 

Some murderers have been forgiven ; a curse ; 
But there's a sin that God hates even worse. 
That sin is the rejection of the plan 
Of his atonement made for fallen man, 
Persistently continued to the end ; 
The turning from one's Savior and Best Friend; 
For such there never has forgiveness been, 
Nor yet shall be — it is the unpardonable sin. 
Christ is the lamb that was for sinners slain; 
All who reject Him go the way of Cain. 

n n n 

n n 

n 



ENOCH. 

When Enoch lived the world was waxing worse, 

Approaching rapidly that awful curse 

When evil uncontrolled should so abound 

No remedy whatever could be found 

Except to sweep the human race away — 

All save one family ; in that dark day 

Did Enoch live ; "and Enoch walked with God," 

Along a path no human foot had trod 

Until one day he passed earth's boundary; 

"And he was not for God took him away." 



I30 FOURSQUARE s 

Now Enoch was of Godly parentage, 

Which was to him a distinct advantage. 

Though grace is not hereditary, yet 

No one can earliest influence forget. 

From infancy till "three score years and ten" 

Had Enoch lived his life like other men. 

At last there came a turning point, and one 

Quite definite — the coming of a son. 

Awakening responsibility ; 

Earth's longest lived he named Methuselah. 

In dim twilight of patriarchial fears. 

Then Enoch walked with God three hundred 

years ; 
Then, can it be impossible today, 
For men in noon-day light, to walk that way? 
"By faith was Enoch translated that he 
Should not see death ;" 'twas all by faith you see ; 
When first he came to God, by faith, he came 
And as he walked with God it was the same ; 
'Twas thus that he "pleased God;" and so "by 

faith" 
"Was translated," and never tasted death. 

He had attained the loftiest character 

And loftiest service was prepared to render. 

"He prophesied. Behold the Lord shall come 

And execute his judgment" — not on some, 

But "all." No easy-going theory 

That everything at last all right shall be 

With all. It was a lofty utterance 

Drawn from a heart whose intimate acquaintance 

With God gave knowledge of his purposes — 

A statement made with God's assurances. 



AND FULL-ORBED 131 

A model such as this we need to brace 
Our little lives and help us fill our place ; 
For evils just as great are close around; 
Corruption and iniquity abound ; 
The love of God in many waxing cold 
While evil men are mustering, more bold 
Than e'er before, and waxing worse and worse. 
O what does it portend? Some dreadful curse? 
Perhaps the end? O who shall stem the tide? 
Who save those who with Him in faith abide? 

How strange it seems that Enoch should be led 
Around the valley, up beyond the head 
Of death's dark stream, above its rolling tide ; 
Be kept until he reached the other side ; 
While you and I go down arr^png dank weeds 
And stumble o'er black rocks where no path 

leads, 
To wade through waters deep, till almost 

drowned ! 
But we'll get over to the same dry ground ; 
For He that took him round will help us ford, 
And we shall be forever with the Lord. 



132 ' ^ FOURSQUARE 



NOAH. 

At last, because of wickedness, the race 
Must be destroyed. A period of grace 
However first is given, and Noah whom 
They know, forewarns them of impending doom. 
A minister of righteousness was he, 
And preached to wicked men a century. 
That was the longest sermon ever heard ; 
And yet not one of them believed the Word; 
They scorned the message, mocked the mes- 
senger 
Refusing to believe the deluge near. 

But Noah built an ark in which should be, 
At least for his immediate family. 
And animals — all kinds, 'tis understood, 
With room for more — a refuge from the flood; 
And o'er a sin-curst world they float, shut in. 
Till Earth baptized, has washed away her sin. 
The flood was scarcely dried, when Noah found 
The curse which since has overwhelmed and 

drowned, 
Of wretched men and women one by one. 
Far greater numbers than the flood had dpne. 

The world has yet to be baptized with fire ; 

But when the deluge comes none need despair; 

There is a sacred ark uplifted high ; 

That ark is Christ ; no human soul need die. 

All are invited, all mankind may come. 

And thus all may escape the final doom. 

There's no religion save the Christian has 



AI^D FULL-ORBED 133 

A word of hope for human families ; 

The women and the children may embark. 

Come thou and all thy house into the ark. 

Sometimes the world is but a dreary waste ; 

Like Noah's dove, the soul can find no place 

To set its weary foot ; the raven feasts 

On carnal things and therewith seemeth pleased ; 

But for the dove there never can be rest 

Till, in the ark and on its savior's breast, 

It finds repose and truest happiness ; 

A foregleam this of everlasting bliss, 

The glorious crown of righteousness in Heaven 

For which the rainbow covenant is given. 

Obedience. 

The mighty temple of the human soul, 
Lit through one casement saw long ages roll, 
While mankind mouldered to a slow decay 
Because they yielded not to reason's sway ; 
So that 'twere best this race corrupt should die — 
But no ! man has a loftier destiny ; 
In vain the soul flies from the sloughs of sense. 
Unless obedience leads the spirit hence. 
Another window's radiance through the gloom, 
To Noah showed man's path from death and 
doom. 



134 FOURSQUARE 



ABRAHAM. 

He who would see faith's noblest monument, 
Faith in its loftiest development, 
Should study Abraham; he stood the test 
And was, in consequence, in all things blest. 
Of him it may be said that he loved God, 
And everything in life worked for his good ; 
All that he was and all that he had been, 
His calling and his sorrow and his sin ; 
No blessing in the fact of sin, we know. 
Yet out of sin sometimes may blessings flow. 

God called him from his kindred in his youth. 

Made him depository of his truth. 

And then how greatly Abraham was blest 

In testing of his faith ; this was the test : 

God took him out beneath the shining sky, 

And God said : "Abraham, look up on high 

And count the stars, for your posterity 

As numerous as the stars of heaven shall be;" 

Then pointing to the sand upon the shore 

He said, "Your seed shall be as many more." 

Yet Abraham, with Sarah as his wife, 

Was old, and both were well advanced in life ; 

And unto them no child had ever come 

To cheer their hearts and bless them in their 

home. 
'Twas only by a miracle we see 
That now the coming of a child could be. 
At first the faith of Sarah wavered; she 
Suggested to her husband bigamy, 



AND FULL-ORBED 135 

Which brought a curse into her family 
As it must ever do, and ever be. 

A miracle was thus by Isaac's birth 
Performed, and all the families of earth 
In him were by God's promise to be blest. 
Alas ! now Isaac must be sacrificed ; 
And yet the faith of Abraham never faltered. 
Nor by a thought of disobedience paltered. 
The God who wrought one miracle by a birth, 
Could by a miracle bring back to earth. 
Thus Abraham believed God's promises. 
With no assurance save his faithfulness. 

Then Abraham was singularly blest 

In the victory over self, which he possessed. 

His nephew. Lot, was taken prisoner, 

When Sodom with her allies went to war 

Against five other nations. Abraham 

Now armed his servants, and a campai-gn 

planned. 
And won a brilliant victory ; but not 
More brilliant than when he had said to Lot: 
"Take first choice, I will take the second" ; he 
Likewise refused spoils of the enemy. 

The wickedness of Sodom was his grief; 
Yet he was blest ; in praying found relief. 
No doubt the greatest sorrow of his life. 
The death of Sarah, his beloved wife. 
With whom he lived in wedlock many years, 
Caused Abraham to shed most bitter tears. 
Death is a downward step into the night, 



136 FOURSQUARE 

Or upward into ever-blessed light; 

So with the grave of those we love the best ; 

Thus Abraham in Sarah's death was blest. 

The world's a better place for living in 

Because he lived. He cured disease of sin 

When in his life its symptoms did appear; 

For others' wickedness he had a tear, 

And when he laid his wife beneath the sod, 

Looked up through sorrow's tears unto his God ; 

Believed God's promises and looked above 

Unto a city built upon God's love. 

He conquered self, enriched the world for aye, 

And died in twilight of eternal day. 

Faith. 

From the broad plains where wandering herds- 
men dwelt, 
A prince led off his bands. The Lord had dealt 
With him in kindness, and his spirit felt 
His gratitude and fervent passions melt 
Into a faith, unquenchable supreme ; 
Now rolling splendors o'er his spirit stream ; 
In God he trusts; from Heaven's high battle- 
ment, 
A blaze of glory fills his horse-hair tent; 
His vision pierces nature's lofty dome. 
And treads the fields where guardian angels 
roam. 



AND FULL-ORBED 137 

LOT. 

Lot was a nephew of the patriarch 

And had been treated as a son. Most dark 

And unattractive was his character. 

Reared in a pious home, subject of prayer, 

He was, so far at least as we can tell, 

A worshipper of God of Israel. 

When, owing to increase of flocks, 'twas best 

To separate — one East, the other West, 

The aged patriarch with faltering voice 

Magnanimously offered Lot his choice. 

Unhesitatingly, with selfish heart, 

Lot chose the Jordan Valley — the best part. 

What mattered it to him, his uncle still 

Had left the desert and the barren hill. 

Says one, "Lot would have been a fool had he 

Done else," which shows that one a knave to be. 

And then Lot pitched his tent toward Sodom, which 

Was strange for one desiring to be rich — 

Sodom, notorious for licentiousness, 

And afterwards destroyed for wickedness. 

''Toward Sodom" ; soon he is established in 

The very center of that town of sin. 

A worse mistake than going there at first 

Was pitching toward a city so sin-curst. 

'Tis so with all ; first stepping o'er the line 

That separates integrity from crime, 

Is anyone's most sovereign mistake. 

We may forget when we that step did take ; 

But if we come to where our lives unroll 

And are spread out before us as a scroll — 



138 FOURSQUARE 

The moment seen when wrong we first discerned, 
First letter in sin's alphabet was learned — 
That is the moment as it seems to me 
Will cause the keenest pangs to memory. 
When once we're started by initial vice 
It seems naught save two angels will suffice 
To compass our escape. 'Twas so with Lot. 
Save for the angels' presence he could not 
Escape to Zoar — even without his wife. 
And then the curtain falls on a wasted life. 

Lot lost his power for good by worldliness — 
Sought popularity by a compromise, 
Forgetting that whatever he might offer 
Would fail to win respect like character. 
The world has many photographs of Lot ; 
If one should die he'd leave behind him not 
One life made better by his life on earth. 
Each one exerts an influence ; from birth. 
Until the eyes are closed at last in death, 
We touch each other's lives at every breath. 

Stand by a swiftly flowing river ; see 
The chip cast in as gambolling sportively 
It rushes with the stream. 'Tis not the stream, 
And yet it forms a part of it, 'twould seem; 
For by increasing the momentum does 
Increase the force with which the river flows. 
So we are in the stream of life and must 
The current with the oars of prayer resist ; 
Or else our tendency must downward be ; 
There's no such thing as strict neutrality. 



AND FULL-ORBED 139 



ISAAC AND REBEKAH. 

The life of Isaac and Rebekah spoils 
One of the prettiest idyls; and it soils 
Our marriage services, invoking their 
Example for each newly-wedded pair. 
One of the prettiest morning-glory flowers, 
That ever opened in this world of ours, 
Had scarce expanded ere it lost its tints 
Of loveliness — its fragrance of romance. 
Beginning in romance, how soon we see 
It ends in coarseness and vulgarity. 

Beginning with the plighting of the troth 
Most honorable in the maid and youth, 
It ends in falsehood and in shiftiness, 
The oflfspring of a sordid selfishness ; 
Because, with all its wonder, all its grace, 
The fear of God had not its proper place ; 
Because, with all the beautiful romance. 
Religion had, to bless their lives, no chance. 
In all their giving of the heart to heart, 
Their self-surrender, God had had no part. 

It was most picturesque and beautiful — 

One coming out of nowhere on a camel 

To surprise a girl in her domestic service 

And carry her away to be the mistress 

Of his home — the home to be henceforth her own ; 

But what availed' it if he came alone — 

She knew not God was with his messenger — 

She went not forth accepting him as leader? 



I40 FOURSQUARE 

Of course it thrilled her heart to hear him say- 
That she was thought about so far away. 

But when with pride is mixed no awe, no faith, 
No conscience, disillusion f olloweth ; 
The Nemesis of all picturesqueness, 
Unmixed with truth, is ever sordidness. 
The Nemesis of all romance without 
Religion is vulgarity. No doubt, 
In Isaac and Rebekah's wedded life, 
Prevailed the notes of selfishness and strife. 
Throughout it, a divided house we see; 
Isaac was not the father he should be. 

Preferring Esau just because he got 
For him the better dinner, he would not 
Bless either till he had received that dinner; 
Was not Isaac thus the greater sinner? 
What of Rebekah? Selfish, cruel kind 
Of craftiness she teaches Jacob; blind 
Was Isaac, and advantage of his plight 
She takes to rob Esau of his birth-right. 
And yet for many couples, newly yoked. 
Has their example strangely been invoked! 

The girl whose pure heart leapedbeside the well 
At stranger's tale of love, becomes the excitable 
Old woman who extravagantly saith: 
"I'm weary of my life because of Heth ; 
If of Heth's daughters Jacob takes a wife. 
What good henceforth to me shall be my life?" 
She on excitement feeds her age, who spent 



AND FULL-ORBED 141 

Her youth with mere sensations mild, content. 
However pure a woman's heart may be, 
If pride be all, expect degeneracy. 

However love may cause the heart to leap, 
If it feels but the sweetness, naught can keep 
The heart from disillusions sure to follow. 
Unmixed excitement, always base and hollow. 
Leads to debased exhaustion of the mind. 
In mere love of romance we always find 
The needle points toward sordidness and sin — 
This is the end, however it begin. 
'Tis not the purity or strength of love 
That saves it — 'tis the awe for things above. 

D n D 

n n 

n 



ESAU. 

The mystery that haunts all human sin. 

The tragedy of life, is pictured in 

The life of Esau. Pity that we feel 

For one so wronged and yet so genial. 

Makes clear to us his central want and blame; 

Perhaps we feel our own to be the same. 

In him we find more that resembles us, 

Life's facts and solemn possibilities, 

Than almost any other character; 

Here was a man — no fallen Lucifer. 



142 FOURSQUARE 

No insane, monstrous sinner was Esau; 

He came to sin as if by natural law; 

To fatal sin along the common way, 

By birth into it, and, by everyday 

And sordid trials, and by carelessness — 

Neglected passions sudden surprises. 

So we get near this man ; in our own lives 

We know how every power of evil strives 

For mastery, while we remain on earth; 

Like Esau, we are sinned against from birth. 

The problem of heredity — still here — 
Does from the first in Esau's case appear. 
His father was responsible for much 
Of Esau's character; and then of such 
A false and hasty mother was he born, 
His chance seems from the first a hope forlorn. 
He never showed her falseness, as we know. 
But had her haste which he did plainly show; 
In her old woman's body it had been 
Exaggeration, or some lesser sin; 

But in his lusty youth, we see it grow 
Into a fatal passion. It is so 
Today. We often wonder why young men 
Burst suddenly into some violent sin; 
But we forget sin's nature always tends 
Toward working out at last in violent ends ; 
'Tis not in them alone that lies the blame — 
Their parents were, in some degree, the same. 
The faults of character of Isaac's wife 
Were just the faults that ruined Esau's life. 



AND FULL-ORBED 143 

Now Esau's heart, so open as we see, 
So unreserved and naturally free, 
Had fifty doors perhaps where others have 
To outside world, at most, but four or five. 
If angels do not come to his defence, 
His peril, certainly, must be immense. 
Poor Esau had but very little chance 
Unguarded by those loving presences ; 
Instead of them a tempter in his brother. 
Alas ! he had a tempter in his mother. 

Then Esau had two kinds of selfishness: 

First physical, of hunger ; for a mess 

Of pottage sold his birth-right to his brother. 

And quite as commonplace we find the other — 

The selfishness of thinking day by day 

In an exaggerated kind of way 

Of self ; and by these selfishnesses twain. 

Because the broth had mounted to his brain. 

He sold his life and honor. Do not pride 

Thyself as safe, if selfishness abide. 

Oh, to live among great Christlike things; 
To practice them ; to mount on eagles' wings 
Above the base and sordid things of earth ! 
Although, like Esau, we have been from birth 
By others wronged, some loving presence may 
Help us to keep from giving ourselves away. 
God has provided something more for men 
Than angels — Christ beside them stands. Oh, then, 
Lay hold of Him. Of selfishness get rid. 
As Esau might have done, as Jacob did. 



144 FOURSQUARE 



JACOB. 

*'And Jacob journeyed on his way." You say: 
'' 'Twas not a very straight or plain way 
That Jacob had to travel through the world." 
The path of life is crooked, rough and gnarled. 
With many wanderings for most of men; 
Beset with dangers it has ever been, 
And full of mysteries, and — strange result — 
It seems for greatest souls most difficult. 
So with this man ; it would be hard to find 
A stranger path than to his steps inclined. 

Oh, what a dark beginning Jacob had ! 

But then, his character was not all bad, 

And no man's is. In it was one strong trait — 

In quiet patience he had learned to wait — 

Until there was a chance a stroke to do 

For self ; and there was self-reliance too, 

A strong back-bone of thriftiness, alert 

For his plain rights, and these he could assert 

To crafty Laban in their duel; yet 

No saint was he whose faults we may forget. 

A meaner man it would be hard to find 

That Jacob in early life. Yet there does shine 

A different light upon his later years ; 

A radiant change of character appears. 

What was the reason for this miracle? 

The earlier accounts, of self are full ; 

The later, are of God's most wondrous grace; 

The first of sin, the last of righteousness. 



I 

AND FULL-ORBED 145 

So, not because his life was free from sin, 
Had God, 'The Mighty God of Jacob" been. 

So Jacob journeyed on his way of sin 
Until he reached a turning point ; and then 
He trod the painful way — he must repent — 
Must pay the penalty in banishment. 
What happened to him on that lonely road, 
This poor exile, this sinful wretch? Did God 
Shut up his heavens, hide his loving powers ? 
No; that is not God's methods; it is ours. 
We'd say "Unfit to live," ''he has no worth," 
"Away with such a fellow from the earth." 

God opened up his shining heavens, and 
Gave him a vision of the better land; 
Let down the golden stairway, and he showed 
This erring mortal, angels on the road ; 
And spoke to him in words of promise true 
And comforting; He said, "Where thou dost go 
I'll be with thee ; I'll keep thee, help thee stand, 
And I will bring thee back into this land." 
Although he walked in darkness many a year. 
That was the turning point in his career. 

No man can walk the common road of life — 

The road of exile and the road of strife — 

Without the angels' presence — evidence 

Of watchfulness and tender providence. 

The road which any mortal has to go, 

However dark or crooked has, we know, 

Some points of glory and some points of light; 



146 FOURSQUARE ' 

And any man will have an awful fight 
To keep the angels out ; he'd have to stray 
A long way off, to keep out of their way. 

In fact, I'm very much inclined to say, 
Wherever erring mortal feet may stray, 
God's angels follow — try to bring them back. 
How they must know by now life's beaten track! 
What journeys they have had! How oft they go! 
No foot of life's great road they do not know. 
There is no turning-point they have not marked, 
No sea of life on which they've not embarked. 
Where e'er the foot of man has ventured, there. 
Have wings of guardian angels swept the air. 

We all are on the "way," the great high road ; 
Its features are the same — the weary load. 
Repose, sunshine and shadow, storm and peace. 
Until we reach the end and find release. 
Well, let us walk rejoicing in the sun. 
And bravely through the shadows when they come. 
We need not leave the common road to see 
Life's grandeur or its dazzling majesty. 
Salvation is upon the common road — 
The way to greatness and the way to God. 

The spiritual is at last the real. 

In this material age we're apt to feel 

That things unseen are but the poet's dream ; 

In this engrossing, hardening age, 'twould seem. 

As animals become encased in stone 

Until the breaking of the shell alone 



AND FULL-ORBED 147 

Can give them liberty, so men engaged 
In the pursuit of wealth, become encaged — 
Imprisoned in the cell of circumstances — 
And think the life they live all that there is ! 

nan 

n n 

n 



JOSEPH. 

Joseph was his father's favorite son ; 
And of the twelve he was the only one, 
As it appears from what the scriptures state, 
Whose character was either good or great. 
His brothers were of envious turn of mind 
And most of them maliciously inclined. 
He told of their misdeeds, and rightly so 
Because his father had a right to know ; 
His brothers hated him for this, it seems, 
And even worse because he told his dreams. 

He dreamed that he was binding up some sheaves- 
His sheaf upright, the others on their knees — 
His other dream was that the sun and moon 
Before him, with eleven stars, bowed down. 
And when he told his brothers what he dreamed. 
In his simplicity of soul, it seemed 
To them insufferable conceit. 
And they were filled with indignation at 
Such loftiness, and waited for a chance 
To punish this unseemly arrogance. 



148 FOURSQUARE 

Accordingly, a little later on, 

When Joseph had been sent where they had gone 

To tend some flocks not many miles away, 

As he appears, they to each other say : 

The dreamer comes; he from such dreams we'll 

keep, 
By putting him into a dreamless sleep. 
Their first thought was to murder him outright ; 
But Reuben, tender-hearted, thought he might 
First lower him in a pit then rescue him; 
The first they did; but Judah had a whim: 

Judah was of commercial turn of mind, 

As his descendants are, and so we find 

He saw a band of Ishmaelites and told 

His brothers that this dreamer should be sold. 

And so they raised him from the pit ; behold 

A type of Christ — for twenty pieces sold. 

They took his many-colored coat, and tore 

It up, soaked it in blood and then they bore 

It to their father, who'd deceived before 

His father — reaping what he sowed, and more. 

Quite pitiful the lot now Joseph had. 

Who at this time was but a tender lad. 

But God watched over him at every turn. 

Purchased by Potiphar who could discern 

In him so much discretion^ year by year, 

That finally he made him overseer. 

And then the devil tempted him and used 

His master's wife, who afterwards accused — 

When she had failed — the sin was all her own; 

But for revenge, had him in prison thrown. 



AND FULL-ORBED 149 

A providence most dark this must have seemed 

To Joseph, but in prison walls there gleamed 

The light of power that gave him favor in 

The keeper's eyes — God's help it must have been. 

For two things happened, not mere incidents ; 

It must have been of special providence : 

Two inmates dreamed — their dreams were much 

the same, 
But Joseph saw in one the greater blame ; 
And he assured him that he should be killed, 
The other reinstated ; — both fulfilled. 

Then Pharaoh dreamed — his was a double dream — 
And seven thin ears of corn, as it did seem, 
Devoured the seven full ears ; and seven fat kine 
Were swallowed up by seven that were lean. 
The "wise men" could make nothing out of it. 
Then it occurred to one that he might get 
Him who interpreted his dream and so 
He spoke of Joseph then unto Pharaoh. 
Sent for, with modesty, yet without shame. 
Into the presence of the king he came 

Divinely guided, Joseph told Pharaoh 

Of seven years of famine, with its woe, , 

That were to follow seven plenteous years. 

And Pharaoh believed him as it appears, 

And seeing Joseph's fitness thought : why not 

Make him prime minister, upon the spot? 

And this he did. The years of plenty came 

And went too quickly — is it not still the same? — 

But Joseph stored away the corn till all 

Of Egypt's granaries were bursting full. 



150 FOURSQUARE 

Then came the pinch of famine, widely felt, 
And Pharaoh did receive in consequence, 
The people's money, cattle, and their land — 
And everything ; 'twas more than they could stand ; 
But Joseph gave them back their lands, who sent 
A portion of their profits for the rent. 
This famine, Jacob up in Canaan did feel; 
And sent hs sons, who now would have to deal, 
Unknown to them, with one they basely sold ; 
Long years had past and they were growing old. 

But they were not so greatly changed but he 
Knew them at once ; but years of royalty. 
With his Egyptian garb, such changes wrought 
In him, that who he was, they never thought. 
His heart yearned over them — although he tries 
To roughly speak and question them as spies. 
They tell of Jacob and of Benjamin, 
Which was what Joseph wished to hear; and then, 
To prove that they were telling him the truth, 
-Bade them, when they came back, to bring the 
youth. 

And to make sure of seeing Benjamin, 

He kept one of their number — Simeon. 

Then, having ordered filled with corn each sack. 

He to the land of Canaan sent them back. 

They thought how Jacob loved his youngest son; 

Hated to leave behind them Simeon; 

Thought of the wrong they did so long ago 

To Joseph; — conscience had begun to do 

Its work. They find the money in each sack. 

They'd surely paid — here is their money back; 



AND FULL-ORBED 151 

What does it mean? They cannot tell, but worse 
They feel is coming; does it bode some curse? 
They tell their father what they saw and heard. 
Poor Jacob, breaking down as they had feared. 
Cried : "Joseph is no more ; now Simeon 
Is not — they both are dead; and Benjamin 
Shall stay with me; unless his life I save, 
Twill bring me down in sorrow to the grave." 
Necessity, 'tis said, can know no law 
He must consent for Benjamin to go. 

Starvation stares them in the face; corn gone; 
Of stern necessity, it must be done. 
And so with aching heart and many a tear 
Did Jacob part with Benjamin, in fear 
That he should never see his face again. 
Down into Egypt did they hasten then; 
Arriving, they met with a circumstance 
That made them fear ; to Joseph's residence — 
Then to his office they are taken back — 
Each thinks about that money in his sack. 

They offered back the money to the steward 
After they had stammeringly assured 
Him of the fact, that they knew not how it came ; 
They hoped in this way to escape the blame; 
He quieted their fears in that regard. 
They had already paid, so he declared; 
Then said, to their astonishment, they were 
To dine that day with the prime minister. 
Then Simeon was brought out; presently 
Joseph came and received them graciously. 



152 FOURSQUARE 

When sight of Benjamin had met his eye 
He needs must turn aside awhile and cry. 
He had not seen his brother since a boy ; 
He feels he must give vent to tears of joy. 
Returning to the feast 'twas noticeable. 
In order of their ages at his table 
Had Joseph seated them ; they wondered much 
How he could know, and also why with such 
A bounty Benjamin was helped. Each sack 
Well filled they start upon their journey back. 

They have both Simeon and Benjamin 

And are quite satisfied. Alas that in 

Their path a worse experience waits them still 

Than they had known ; when they their sacks did 

fill 
Not only in their sacks had money been 
Concealed, but Joseph's silver cup thrown in. 
An officer finds it within the sack 
Of Benjamin, and they are taken back 
To Joseph, who insists that Benjamin, 
The guilty party must remain with him. 

A most pathetic protest Judah made 
And asked that he as bondsman in the stead 
Of Benjamin be kept. 'Twould surely break 
Their father's heart if they should fail to take 
Him back^ — 'twould kill him, for he loved him so. 
The anguish of their parting could he know 
No longer Joseph can himself contain; 
He tells them who he is — sold, met again. 
Though much astonished they are this to hear, 
It does not in the least allay their fear. 



AND FULL-ORBED 153 

But Joseph comforted them with the assurance 
Of his forgiveness ; showed how Providence 
Had overruled their wrong and brought about 
Great good and many blessings. No doubt 
They long discoursed about old times^ and then 
Of things that happened since their parting, when 
Hard by the pit from which he had been taken 
He started with those Ishmaelites. Mistaken 
Had they been — no need to mention it — 
Much was recalled by memory of that pit. 

With five years more of famine, Joseph sends 
For Jacob and their families, now friends. 
How mingled are their feelings as they go, 
For it will be embarrassing they know 
To tell their father of their awful crime; 
Would he forgive them? For so long a time 
The record of it had been safely hid — 
They thought he would forgive them ;^ — so he did. 
"My son is still alive," said he, "and I 
Will go that I may see him ere I die." 

Down into Egypt they together go. 

Into the land of Goshen, which, we know. 

Had Joseph chosen for them. Pastures fine 

For all their flocks and herds of lowing kine 

Had been provided for them. Joseph met 

His father while riding in his chariot. 

Jacob scarcely recognized his boy 

In such magnificence arrayed. But joy 

Of meeting was not thereby from them kept ; 

They tenderly embracing kissed, and wept. 



154 FOURSQUARE 

Jacob lived for many years, with every son 
Save Joseph, in the land of Goshen; one 
And all had prospered. On his dying bed 
He sent for Joseph; talked of God who'd led 
Him, and of Rachel's death and burial, 
And spoke concerning his own funeral; 
And after blessing all his sons he gave 
Directions as to where should be his grave ; 
It was to be the Cave of Machpelah 
Beside the body of his wife Leah. 

Joseph ruled and prospered in the land 
Of Egypt many years. His life was grand; 
In many things he was of Christ a type. 
He lived a hundred years and ten, a ripe 
Old age. Before he died he did exact 
One oath from Israel: when they went back 
From Egypt God's promises to pursue 
That they would promise him one thing to do- 
That they should not forget to take his bones; 
According to their promise this was done. 

D D n 

n n 

n 



JOB. 

Job was a character unique, immense; 
A man of wealth and social prominence, 
A leader of the people; one in whom 
All virtues were in glorious summer-bloom. 



AND FULL-ORBED 155 

On either hand walked temporality 

And her twin sister spirituality; 

And each with richest laurels crowned his years; 

A proof that largest wealth and loftiest honors 

Are consonant with deepest piety ; 

For further proof we ask his family. 

Job's family arise and testify 
In his behalf; and no one could deny, 
A perfect and an upright man was he, 
WhO' fearing God eschewed iniquity. 
He was above reproach. No shadow fell 
Across the page of his inner life, to tell 
Upon the outward form of action. But 
This spotless righteousness of his could not 
Go unobserved by Satan, who did burn 
Some fault to find, some evil to discern. 

Now Satan was, for sin, from Heaven hurled; 

Yet he is good for something in this world. 

He is a never-tiring enemy — 

A critic, but no flatterer is he; 

He never recognizes merit; he 

Does not admit there is integrity. 

Our friends may hide our vices until we, 

With pride inflated, loathsome things may be; 

But Satan is the foe for pride to fear, 

Without a rival and without a peer. 

Job was an Israelite who knew no guile, 
A character no blemish did defile. 
Happy the age that could produce this man ! 
Happy our age if it his equals can! 



156 FOURSQUARE 

Forunate the neighbors who know and prize 
Such spotless characters before their eyes ! 
Some men are beautiful if casually known — 
On distant dazzling heights or lordly throne — 
But in their private walks of daily life 
We're shocked to see their vanity and strife. 

It is the little fox that spoils the vine; 

The careless words and thoughts that undermine 

The Alpine character. In chiselling such, 

'Tis true it takes a master artist's touch. 

Though any ordinary lubber can 

Knock off the rough exterior, the man 

Who for perfection strives must be concerned 

With trifles, which, the artist has discerned 

Do make perfection; and perfection is 

No trifle — Satan this confesses. 

And, going further, Satan witnesses 

God's providential care. Job, he says, 

Is good because of this ; he's so hedged in 

By mercies that 'tis not worth while to sin. 

Of course he can be perfect and he should, 

For he has every reason to be good. 

This glorious confession is quite true; 

'Twas so with Job; 'tis so with me, with you. 

His providence extends to us and brings 

Us safely back from many wanderings. 

Confessing further, Satan truly says 
The service of Job's Master richly pays: 
"Thou hast increased his substance in the land" 
And "Thou hast blest the labor of his hand," 



AND FULL-ORBED 157 

But Satan made one very great mistake; — 
It was the same mistake his agents make : 
"Take all thy servant hast — leave not a trace, 
And he will curse thee even to thy face." 
Devoid of principle, and much to blame 
Are they who think all people are the same. 

"Put forth thy hand and touch the spoil, and see 
How he will trample on thy wishes; he 
Will roar with rhocking laughter when you speak 
Of sweet constraints of love, and bid him seek 
Rewards beyond. Thy servant Job obeys 
Because he from experience, knows it pays." 
This was too. grave a charge to pass unnoticed 
So God resolved tO' put Job to the test. 
'Twas not for Satan's benefit to be; 
Nor that God doubted Job's integrity. 

It was an object lesson — dearly bought — 

For all 'gainst whom such charges might be 

brought 
In coming centuries; and to confound 
All devils who such questions may propound. 
All that Job hath is thine. Into thy hands 
I will deliver him and all he has. 
Take all his cattle — all his property 
And one by one take all his family ; 
Then strike him down with terrible disease, 
Save but his life, and do what else you please. 

Forth Satan went unto his work of death; 

He rode between the lightnings, and his breath 

Was a consuming flame. How he enjoyed 



158 FOURSQUARE 

The music of their wails whom he destroyed. 

He smote, and lost were all Job's herds ; then came 

Destruction of his houses by the flame; 

And then in death his children closed their eyes. 

Job, his integrity unshaken, cries: 

'The Lord who gave now takes away the same; 

Through good and evil, blessed be his name." 

One more resort remained. Although Job's 

wealth 
Is gone, his family destroyed, his health 
Remains intact. "Put forth thy hand and take 
His health and cover him with sores, and make 
His life by night and day a misery. 
And then Job will, unto thy face, curse thee." 
Permitted, Satan strikes him down. Then came 
The stupid counselors who himi did blame; 
And then to cap the climax, by and by 
His wife, who said to him: *'Curse God and die." 

O Job, thy God alone can recompense 

Thee for thy suffering in innocence! 

But hark ! out of the mass of suffering. 

Out of the matted hair and eyesight dim, 

From crackling lips sublimely these words came: 

"Although He slay me yet will I trust Him." 

Sublimest saying that was ever uttered! 

Here was no spoil — no hope of a reward. 

How all the halls of Heaven must have rung 

At this, the greatest victory ever sung. 



AND FULL-ORBED 159 

BALAAM. 

for the magic power of sculptor's hand, 
That I might summons thee to take thy stand^ 
Thy wild hair floating in the eastern breeze; 
Or one who deep in Heaven some pageant sees; 
Or fixed perchance thy tranced yet eager gaze 
Magnificently on the desert haze. 

To thee were known, so Hagar's ofif-spring tell, 
The powerful vigil and the starry spell, 
The midnight call. Hell's shadowy legions dread. 
And sounds that burst the slumbers of the dead. 

1 see thee, drawn with sweeping fresco-stroke; 
Enchanter, yet with eyes which God had oped; 
A bad, deceitful man, upon the whole, 

Yet with the fire of genius in thy soul; 
A son of Beor who had won throughout 
Colossal kingdoms of the east, no doubt. 
The reputation that thou could'st advance, 
Or check, the chariot wheels of circumstance; 
Aye that thy words had power — as was told — 
To heaven's decree of destiny control. 

Not for example, nor for mere adorning 

Is Balaam given; but for solemn warning. 

The prophet Balaam did not share, one sees. 

Infatuation of his votaries. 

Though sorcerer and Gentile as he was. 

He knew full well that curses without cause 

Can hurt no one but him who utters them. 

He knew that God could frustrate them and him. 

He could have told, and afterwards must tell. 

There's no enchantment against Israel. 



i6o FOURSQUARE 

But here's a lesson, permanent, intense; 

The tempting opportunity presents 

Itself to one susceptible, and then — 

The consequences follow to such men; 

All uncontrollable it must have been 

For it appealed to his besetting sin. 

What was that sin? Quite plainly we are told 

That Balaam's cherished sin was love of gold. 

He could have been delivered; — safety lies 

In fixed resolve; in Him who hears our cries. 

Had he refused the tempting messenger 

No ghastly shipwreck of the bright career 

His might have been, had followed. Well he knew. 

This was precisely what he ought to do; 

But, gazing on those glittering rewards, 

He dallies with temptation and retards 

Decision. "He who hesitates is lost." 

Forsooth, for direct vision wait he must — 

Thus strangely opportunity is sold — 

Paltering with the Eternal God for gold. 

Though Balaam was allowed another chance, 
And might have been a victor, yet, alas ! 
When one is insincere his treachery 
Ne'er yields the soul so cheap a victory. 
His gloating talk about ''a house of gold," 
Concerning which he nothing had been told, 
Made Balak feel instinctively the faint 
"'No" of the lips, belied the heart of saint. 
To serve two masters, conscience will not stay, 
But smiles and leaves in silent irony. 



AND FULL-ORBED i6i 

How sin is made the punishment for sin! 

**If men call thee, arise and go with them." 

The outraged moral sense may seem to yield 

When conscience is benumbed, may quit the field; 

But is the one permitted, so, at ease? 

A man may feed on ashes if he please; 

But is he healthy? Can he feel secure? 

Are there no penalties he must endure? 

No monsters, though their forms he does not see, 

In sunless caverns of iniquity? 

When Balaam's eyes are opened, he discerns, 
As lightning flash on penal blindness bums, 
A scene more vivid than the midday sun; 
But self-deception had its evil done. 
He bows his head and falls upon his face, 
And, groveling in the dust, he must confess. 
That he has sinned; but ah, the hypocrite! 
*'If it displeases thee," he says, "I'll quit." 
No' angel met him after that, nor will. 
"Let him that is unjust, be unjust still." 

D n n 

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MOSES. 

Perhaps no grander human character 
Than Moses ever lived. Paul was greater 
In some respects ; Peter, John and James 
Stand with him on the mount as worthy names. 



i62 FOURSQUARE 

David could, perhaps, more sweetly sing; 
Isaiah had the eagle's sight and wing; 
Ezekiel had a majestic imagery; 
Of whom but a dim reminder is Dante ; 
But Moses towers, like works of Angelo 
And Raphael, the greatest that we know. 

No braver warrior every buckled sword, 

And no more gifted poet breathed a word; 

And no philosopher with golden pen. 

Wrote words more sage than he wrote down for 

men. 
But after all his marvelous greatness lies 
In character, not in his genius. 
He gained access into the pantheon 
By what he was, more than by what he'd done. 
He was well-born, and protege from his birth 
Of the greatest king and princess then on earth. 

Brought up in brilliant court, surrounded by 

Statesmen and sages of philosophy, 

He was the Marlborough of Egypt's arms. 

The student, pride, the rival and the charm 

Of Egypt's venerated teachers, known 

And loved now for his great decision. Fawned 

Upon by the crowned head, kissed and caressed 

By the princess, courted by the populace, 

In easy reach of scepter and the throne — 

He stepped aside for conscience sake alone. 

O favored one in thy proud chariot sitting. 
Sweet dreams, we know before thine eyes are flit- 
ting; 



AND FULL-ORBED 163 

But in thy heart are thoughts of future duty ; 
'Tis life's grand struggle shades thy brow of 

beauty ! 
How can he spend his years in wealth and 

pleasure, 
His brethren bound in sorrows without measure? 
He feels that if their chains are ever broken. 
His hand must lead them out. The word is spoken : 
''Farewell ye gilded halls and palace bowers, 
And friends I love in Egypt's stately towers. 

"O, Pharaoh's daughter, royal ties I sever. 
Farewell ; I am your son no more forever. 
Farewell, ye dreams of power and scenes alluring, 
I turn through grief to riches more enduring; 
Through desert waste my path will lead to glory, 
A fadeless crown unknown in Egypt's story." 
This single act gave tone and symmetry 
To every fact in Moses' history — 
One of those acts that shape a whole career. 
That startle first, then thrill forevermore. 

There needs must come a time when Pharoah 
The mind and heart of his protege must know. 
Thus spoke the sovereign, dusky, almond-eyed ; 
"This young precocious Hebrew is my pride; 
Perhaps I'm wrong in giving him the reins ; 
The blood of Levi flows within his veins; 
He is the son of Jochebed, and proud 
Of his peculiar people, 'tis avowed." 
"His mother has his ear and heart," he saith, 
"And she would die for her ancestral faith." 



i64 FOURSQUARE 

'This giant may accomplish our o'erthrow 
And lead his people," reasoned Pharaoh. 
''Will he accept the crown at my decease, 
Be true to Egypt both in war and peace, 
Or throw off all allegiance and place 
Himself among his mother's cursed race." 
A crisis is arranged; he must decide; 
Reports must be approved, or else denied; 
Suspicion that he was an Israelite 
At heart had gone abroad. In dim twilight — 

See Moses climbing to a summit high 

O'erlooking the imperial city; — 

A mighty empire for his choice now bids; 

Far to the south arise the pyramids; 

The river Nile is fringed with worshippers. 

And like a golden ribbon it appears ; 

The sun aweary of his day-long flight, 

Now drops into the bosom of the night ; 

A crown is in his reach — will he be crowned? 

Ah, Moses is upon temptation's ground. 

A compromise must be impossible, 

Attempts to reconcile chimerical; 

For Moses knew that he as sovereign would 

Soon be compelled to be untrue to God, 

As well as to his people and himself; 

But to decHne would lead perhaps to death. 

At least to exile and to poverty; 

How costly must the choice of Moses be ! 

But character is always costly; yes 

But so are diamonds, worth so vastly less. 



AND FULL-ORBED 165 

He looks beyond the crumbling dynasties, 
Beyond earth's petty triumphs, and he sees. 
As through a glass, the summits dim and gray. 
That separate time from eternity; 
Then towards his mother's home he sets his face 
And says : "Where thou art I will take my place. 
I'd rather be the least of God's alone 
Than wear a crown and sit upon a throne." 
This was sublimest wisdom; he could see, 
O'er death's dark shoulder, fair eternity. 

He had respect unto the recompense 
Of the reward, and so should we; he wants 
To know, just as we all desire to know, 
When earthly life shall end where we shall go- 
lf life and destiny were things unreal. 
Decision would be less material ; 
Stark fools, if these be great realities. 
Are they who dote on temporalities. 
And reckoning by years do shut their eyes 
To all pertaining to eternities. 

Thus great was Moses' Hfe and character. 
'Tis true that no man knows his sepulcher; 
What matters it, the hillside is his pall; 
He lies in state with stars for tapers tall. 
With dark rock-pines over his bier to wave; 
Had God's own hand to lay him in his grave. 
In that deep grave whence his uncoffined clay 
Shall break again before the judgment day. 
And stand on hills that he had never trod 
And sing the song of the incarnate God. 



i66 FOURSQUARE 

The Law. 

From Egypt's teeming fields the Hebrews fled, 

Following his steps where'er the Seer led, 

And to the mountain came an altar grand 

Reared in the waste by an almighty hand, 

That here earth's self should smoke, and flames 

arise. 
While Moses stood to offer sacrifice. 
Then came the Law amid a nation's cries, 
And lurid light, that issuing from the skies, 
Comandment forged to fetter men from wrong, 
And wrought by righteousness with weapons 

strong. 

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JOSHUA. 

Life's ruHng passion oft appears at death, 
Predominating till the latest breath. 
The miser clutches mentally his gold ; 
The shepherd leads his sheep into the fold; 
The reckless driver reaches for the brake; 
And travelers will ask which train to take. 
So with the painter, sculptor, musician 
And ruler ; all of life seems crowded in 
The waiting chamber of eternity 
^Twas so with Caleb and with Joshua. 



AND FULL-ORBED 167 

When Joshua was old and bent and lame, 

In tone and sentiment he was the same — 

The Joshua he was in younger years, 

When, quick and resolute as it appears. 

He pleaded for the taking of the land; 

So in his last act he would take his stand 

And flame with old-time vehemence : "Observe ; 

Decide ; choose ye this day whom ye will serve ; 

Behold your origin and destiny ; 

Make your decision, act, decide today." 

He hung before them with a skillful hand 

The pictures past of their beloved land, 

Constructing as it were, a gallery 

Of triumphs, in the crossing of the sea, 

The smiting of the rock, fording the Jordan, 

Conquest of Jericho, and possessing Canaan. 

Over against these glowing scenes he placed 

Dark pictures of apostasy, and traced 

Its consequences ; then with a master's skill. 

Made his appeal : "Decide ; serve whom ye will." 

So every man has his alternative ; 

And every act is choice; 'tis thus we live. 

There is no river without head and mouth ; 

No north and east without a west and south. 

And there can never be analysis 

Without a corresponding synthesis. 

Here is the awfulness of human life; 

We are free moral agents in its strife. 

With feelings, thoughts and actions as we please. 

And character is as we fashion these. 



i68 FOURSQUARE 

Men of decision are the busy bees 

That fill the hive with honey ; such as these 

Have been the architects of empires and 

Republics — literally have turned the land 

And sea from waste and wildness into 

A fruitful world. The men of action who 

Accomplish most have first most wisely planned ; 

They first must serve to afterwards command. 

All must decide ; and so, with every man, 

The fixed decision should precede the plan. 

D D n 

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SHAMGAR. 

Shamgar was a judge of Israel, 

A warrior and a tiller of the soil; 

A man of courage and efficiency 

To the full extent of his ability. 

The art of war had been neglected long; 

Swords rusting in their scabbards^ shields were 

hung 
Away ; and yet within the city's gates 
Philistines plundered; without magistrates 
To punish thieves and robbers commerce ceased; 
Maurauding bands had fertile fields laid waste. 

At such a time it seems the infesting bands 
Six hundred strong came down upon the lands 
Of Shamgar; spying them while plowing, and 



AND FULL-ORBED 169 

Having but an ox-goad in his hand, 

To urge the lingering cattle, or to cut 

The thorns and roots before the plowshare; but 

So suddenly the enemies appear 

There is no time to send for sword and spear 

Or call for troops; he, clutching his ox-goad 

More firmly, thrusts for Israel and for God. 

His eyes shoot lightnings and, with fibers steeled, 
The ox-goad as Goliath's sword doth wield. 
Like wheat before the scythe his foes are cleft; 
He strikes upon the right and on the left; 
The hundreds are reduced to scores, to ten; 
The last handful now come together, when 
He gathers up his strength for final contest ; 
They reel, they fall. Then from the scene of con- 
quest 
The farmer-warrior hastes, thoughtless of glory. 
To tell to Israel's chiefs the battle-story. 

Think of Shamgar; no training had he when 
He won that victory. God took his pen 
And on the monument where are inscribed 
The names of great and valient men, we find 
The name of him who had delivered Israel, 
By using such an humble weapon well. 
The church of God like Israel of* old, 
Has her equipments grand; but we behold 
In holy places robbers of her peace ; 
The screech of traffic seems to never cease. 

The hands of magistrates are filled with bribes ; 
Youth is corrupt, licentious, and the crimes 



170 FOURSQUARE 

Recorded daily, chill the blood and bring 
The blush of shame ; and cries impatient ring 
From contemplative souls. In great demand 
Are men like Shamgar who can understand 
The times. This mode of warfare, as we see, 
At other times in Israel's history. 
Would have been ill-advised. Men who succeed, 
In any age, are those who see the need. 

And Shamgar used such weapon as he had — 
Time- wasting idle- wishing would be mad. 
He could have wished for javelin of Saul, 
Goliath's sword or mighty shield, for all 
The troops and regiments. And so could our 
Best years be spent in wishing for the power 
That wisdom, learning, eloquence afford; 
And if we have a keen Damascus sword — 
Baptize it in the blood of Calvary, 
And strike, with all the strength, the enemy. 

But must all men by human rules be wise 
And eloquent before they can arise 
To battle for the truth and for the right? 
Ah, no ; "'tis not by power nor by might 
But by my spirit," saith the Lord. All see 
Shamgar could not have won that victory 
Alone ; another — a superhuman force 
Must be considered ; angelic hosts 
Looked on those fields of simple husbandry; 
'Twas God, not Shamgar, won the victory. 



AND FULL-ORBED 171 



GIDEON. 

Like stars across the sky of history, 
Great men, illustrious characters, we see. 
Which mitigate the darkness of the night 
And lend belated travelers their light. 
Amid upheavals of society 
And politics, alone, there seems to be 
That opposition and contention that 
The strongest Hves and characters create. 
In darkest ages of the Judges, thence, 
Was Gideon brought into prominence. 

Behind the barn I see him threshing wheat; 

The wine-press hiding from the Midianite. 

His family was poor. He was the runt. 

Could circumstance have brought him to the front ? 

Ah no ; an angel called him to his work : 

"Thou mighty man of valor." Could he shirk 

From duty, could he shrink from such a call? 

''Go in thy might, thou shalt save Israel." 

If God says "Go," then Gideon will go; 

Says "Mighty man of valor," it is so. 

But Gideon must first be sure ; a test 

He'll make of God, who grants his strange request. 

Then Gideon begins his work at home, 

Unlike the man who trembles to become, 

Because of what his wife or people say, 

A man of God ; he wins first victory. 

Then next he blows a trumpet loud and long 

Which brings a host of thirty-two thousand strong. 



172 FOURSQUARE 

Bold spirits bring large followings — always do;- 
But more will join a movement than go through. 

Twenty-two thousand fearful ones go home ; 
A large percentage, it would seem, but some 
Nine thousand and seven hundred more must go, 
Who had no care for danger, falling low 
To quench their thirst in sight of the enemy. 
Then were a few, from appetite set free; 
Three hundred, left a strange artillery, 
But quite enough to win the victory ; 
An army small in numbers, but in which 
Were courage great, and soul-resources rich. 

Observe the lessons : First humility ; 

This man was modest in a rare degree; 

He trembled at the call of God. So all 

Who cause the world to tremble at their call 

Have felt the mightiness of some great cause. 

For this, it seems is one of nature's laws ; 

The righteous first see rightness ; and of course, 

Humihty contains a hidden force. 

"I am the weakest in the family," 

Said Gideon, "God has no use for me." 

But Gideon had a purpose, strong and true. 

That led him on as such must always do — 

Redeeming Israel from the Midianities; 

Of this he dreams, for this he lives and fights. 

There was imagination in his acts; 

If we've no fancy, we will see no facts. 

In Gideon's dreams there was a realism ; 



AND FULL-ORBED 173 

All manhood is essential patriotism; 

All noble men stand in this world and say: 

This is my world, its laws I will obey. 

It is not quantity but quality we need, 
The choice things, that make our lives succeed. 
The crystalizing of that which is best 
Is often worth far more than all the rest. 
The powers with which we, after all, succeed. 
That make great lives, and characters indeed. 
Are those of which no strength can strip us, and, 
When tested, like brave Gideon and his band. 
They stand the test ; thus they must ever stand, 
And evermore life's victories command. 

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SAMSON. 

O'er Israel, her ancient enemy 
The Philistine, held undisputed sway; 
But God raised up, as He had done before, 
A helper — Samson was the name he bore. 
Unto Manoah's wife this son was born. 
His hair and beard were never to be shorn. 
He was to be a Nazarite— nothing unclean 
Was he to eat, from strong drink must abstain. 
He grew into prodigious size and strength. 
And, girded, punished Israel's foes at length. 



174 FOURSQUARE 

His nature — animal — was strong, and in 
To many perils led him, many a sin. 
One day in going down to Philistia, 
To visit one whom he wished to marry, 
He met and slew a lion, and the bees 
Stored their honey later in its carcass. 
To young Philistines at his marriage feast 
He stated a riddle, none of them could guess : 
"Out of the eater came forth meat," he says, 
''And out of the strong there came forth sweet- 
ness." 

Upon this riddle he a wager laid. 
They could not guess it ; but he was betrayed ; 
His wife betrayed him and, to pay his bet, 
He slew Philistines means enough to get. 
Of course this angered the Philistines, and 
At once open hostilities began ; 
Once single handed and alone he fought, 
He many of his enemies had smote; 
To tails of foxes fire-brands he tied; 
Turned loose, they spread destruction far and 
wide. 

Once when they thought they had him in their 

power. 
He broke their cords as if they'd been in fire, 
Seized the first thing that came to hand, and slew 
A thousand men ; to refuge others flew. 
A little later when he was in Gaza 
The Philistines bethought of means and ways to 
Kill him. Anticipating their design 
He rose up in the dead of night to find 



AND FULL-ORBED 175 

The massive city-gates shut fast; but lifting 

them, 
He takes them to the top of the hill with him. 

Tempted at last to break his Nazarite vow, 
He finds himself shorn of his strength; and now 
Betrayed by a deceitful woman, sees 
Himself bound, in the power of enemies. 
Who oft had cowered or fled before his face ; 
But now they taunt him in his helplessness. 
Bind him with brass, and lest he should surprise 
Them with his strength, they put out both his 

eyes. 
And send him down to Gaza, corn to grind ; — 
'Tis not the last of Samson though, they find. 

God gives him back his strength for final strife, 
The tragic close of his eventful life. 
'Ti^ in the great Philistine carnival ; 
The guards bring out the prisoner who shall 
Make sport for them, they say. He cannot see 
A face, but hears them talking sneeringly 
About the God whom he professed to trust. 
They asked for feats of strength ; perform he 

must; 
They watch and laugh and shout with their ap-* 

plause; 
But in the midst there is a sudden pause. 

He whispered something to the lad who led 
Him, but the crowd heard not a word he said ; 
And 'gainst the pillars Samson seemed to lean 



176 FOURSQUARE 

And call on God to vindicate his name. 
There was a sudden trembling, then a crash, 
An awful ruin, a tremendous smash, 
Which buried Samson with his many foes.. 
Thus he paid for his follies with his woes ; 
But the Philistines paid more dearly still 
For defiance of the God of Israel. 

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RUTH. 

"Where hast thou gleaned today," was asked of 

Ruth; 
Naomi asked the question, and in truth, 
All may, from Ruth's experience, reply. 
How goes the day? There is no need to sigh 
O'er buried hopes ; to sit and fold the hands 
And say, I am entangled in these lands ; 
A wall is built across my path, and I, 
Left in this wilderness alone, must die. 
I'm like a ship abandoned, tempest-tossed ; 
Mast broken — compass, sail and rudder lost. 

Ruth might have said, if one had asked of her 
Her name, her work and what her prospects 

were : 
"You really hardly need to ask me who 
I am, I'm no account whatever ; go 
And ask someone with something to be told — 



AND FULL-ORBED 177 

Successful issues of adventures bold — 
A story with some meaning, purpose, hope ; 
But as for me, my light is gone ; I grope, 
I plod as best I can my weary way ; 
My crazy bark is like a shell at sea. 

I could have told of purposes and plan 
When I was Mrs. So-and-So, for then 
My heart was young, my hopes rose high, but 

now 
See me a widow, poor, forlorn ; see how, 
Heart-sick and weary, still my body bends 
To scrape a living with my fingers' ends." 
Ruth might have said all this. We know today, 
There was no life more full of destiny, 
Of hope than hers — that widow, poor, forlorn, 
Who stood heart-sick amidst the alien corn. 

She went to work with sadness in her heart, 
With tearful eyes, lumps rising in her throat. 
So now, no one should sit around and mope 
Because apparently there is no hope. 
Was it by inspiration — who can say? 
That Ruth the Moabitess said that day 
"Let me now go into the fields, some place 
There'll be, in some sight I'll find grace." 
Do not sit still. If things look dark behind. 
And dark in front, faint not ; do not repine. 

Each day is new ; go see what it may yield ; 
The world is God's, he walks within his field. 
Ruth went and came until her lot it was 
To reach the field belonging unto Boaz. 



178 FOURSQUARE 

A new day came ; the past was fled and gone ; 
The darkest hour is just before the dawn; 
The longest road must have somewhere an end ; 
Things at their worst must soon begin to mend. 
There is a clew to life's bewildering maze — 
It is the Man of Wealth, Ancient of Days. 



D D n 
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SAMUEL. 

Last of the Judges and most venerable 
Of all that ruled in ancient Israel, 
Prophet as well as judge was Samuel. 
He led the people, judged them long and well, 
And faithful to the Lord, he did his best 
To bring them into ways of righteousness. . 
In answer to his prayers a dreadful storm 
Was sent to scatter armies that did form 
Against them. He set up that famous stone — 
Which had the words, "God help us," graved 
thereon. 

The prophet's father's name was Elkanah; 
But to that mother he owed most; Hannah 
Devoted him unto the Lord from birth. 
The praying mothers, who can know their 

worth ! 
She took him to the temple ; unafraid 



AND FULL-ORBED 179 

Left with the priest the child; for him she 

prayed. 
One night while sleeping on his little cot, 
He heard a voice (and JEli's voice 'twas not) ; 
And; Eli, satisfied it was God's word 
Told Samuel to hearken to the Lord. 



The common sense of the people, strange to see. 
Will seize upon, almost unerringly. 
The striking qualities of a life-story. 
Learned commentators on the history 
Of Samuel, tell us of that great seer, 
Who founded those grand schools in which ap- 
pear 
To have been trained great men of after-time ; 
Sacred historians tell of the man sublime — 
The leader, priest and judge, who stood between 
Two eras of his nation, as is seen. 

And yet, whatever Samuel may be 

To scholars — prophet, who through history 

Walks clad in his strange mantle, crowned with 

long 
White locks of age ; — is their conception 

wrong — 
Who constitute the bulk of Christian people — 
Who thinks of him as the child Samuel? 
In all the pictures of the households, we 
See him the little child who reverently 
Is listening to the God of love and might ; — 
Is not this view, this common feeling, right? 



i8o FOURSQUARE 

The Savior of mankind though once a child 

Was ever "holy, pure and undefiled" ; 

Yet, is there any reason to suppose 

That he was very different from those 

Who were his playmates and companions then? 

Like Samuel, he ''grew" to be a man. 

And carried into manhood memories, 

And kept in loving touch with childhood's ways. 

The names of all Earth's little. ones he bore 

From cross to skies to grow forevermore. 

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SAUL. 

In all the range of sacred history 
There is perhaps no deeper tragedy 
Than the story of that unhappy king, 
Whose reign, so splendid at its opening, 
So enviable in its prosperous dawn. 
Was yet so wretched in its sad decline. 
What youth of Israel but envied him, 
What maid of Israel but loved him, when. 
Head taller than the shouting multitude, 
So modest and magnanimous he stood. 

What meanest tramp who begged his bread 

would have 
Changed lots with him disguised at the witch's 

cave; 



AND FULL-ORBED i8i 

What shame and anguish did that hour bring! 
The king, who had stood, every inch a king, 
Beneath the pomegranate at fair Migron ; — 
Clothed Israel's virgins with delights ; put on 
Their scarlet robes bright ornaments of gold ; 
The king discrowned and ghastly pale, behold 
Now driven by despair to hear her tell — 
Heaven's secrets hears from a sorceress of hell ! 

When in the cavern of the woman whom 

He should have scorned, the messages of doom 

Came from the ghostly lips of Samuel — 

The prophet he had known, who loved him well, 

The good man who had been his friend, in vain, 

Who might have been the glory of his reign, — 

There was a clang upon the rocky floor ; 

He swooned and fell as if to rise no more ; 

"Made haste to fall" is what the writers say. 

How had his sun gone down while it was day! 

Next morn against him did the battle go ; 
As from the barren heights of grim Gilboa, 
The tide of Israel's carnage rolled, he was 
Himself most sorely wounded by the archers. 
Rolling in blood, in anguish he did hear. 
While leaning on his once victorious spear. 
The terror of the rout. His sons are slain ; 
His people are defeated. What but pain 
And sorrow can his life to him afford? 
He would be slain ; he falls upon his sword. 

Then came the foul Amalekite who tore 

The crown from kingly forehead and who bore 



i82 FOURSQUARE 

The spear in hand, the bracelet on his arm ; 
And all that now remained of kingly form 
Of Israel's pride on her high places slain — 
A grinning skull, an armor rent in twain, 
And white bones bleaching in the fierce sunlight 
On Bethshan's walls, to show the wretched 

plight ! 
In all that tragedy there is nothing worse 
Than is embodied in this tragic verse : 

"And when Saul had inquired of the Lord, 
He answered him by neither sign nor word." 
Calamity of all kinds may be borne ; 
Menaced by shipwreck we can breast the storm : 
We've learned that earthly hopes are all, preca- 
rious, 
And blighted oft, and turned to rottenness ; 
So disappointment they can seldom bring; 
And faithfulness can feed on suffering. 
To see defeat in battle, or worse still. 
To see affection changed into ill-will — 



All this, and even more, Saul had to bear, 
And this may all be borne without despair ; 
But to be left in blind perplexity, 
To stagger on in dark anxiety. 
To have his prayers flung back into his face, 
And feel that in God's care he had no place — 
Ah, that was anguish worse than death. So long 
As God is with us, we can bear all wrong, 
And even death from its sharpest sting is freed ; 
Without him life is desolate indeed. 



AND FULL-ORBED 183 

With Christ, death is an angel, and we may 

In quiet resignation learn to say : 

Whatever discipline thy will ordain. 

For the brief course which must for me remain, 

Teach me with quick-eared spirit to rejoice, 

In admonitions of thy softest voice. 

Glad through a perfect love, a faith sincere, 

Drawn from the wisdom that begins with fear, 

Glad to expand, and for a season free 

From finite cares, to rest absorbed in thee. 

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DAVID. 

Who is the man that's after God's own heart? 
The man who has in evil had no part? 
Aye truly; but if such a man there be, 
He'll not be found in either thee or me. 
The man who has the least of evil done? 
Betwixt that man and Christ, the Holy One, 
There is a gulf more broad than lies between 
The vilest and the purest earth has seen. 
The sinner who doth from his sin depart. 
This is the man that's after God's own heart. 

The life of David reads like a romance. 
He spent his boyhood on his father's ranch ; 
A handsome, ruddy shepherd boy was he; 
The youngest of a numerous family. 



i84 FOURSQUARE 

His father's flocks he followed, — often seen 

O'er fertile flowery fields of Palestine. 

His outdoor duties made him strong; with time 

To meditate, he grew in heart and mind. 

Responsibilities to him were grave ; 

They made him thoughtful, independent, brave. 

He had to think and act for self, to lead ; 
His father's helpless flocks, defend and feed. 
Dogs, wolves and vultures were their common 

foe, 
But for his lambs he had to fight, we know, 
With lions and with bears, which was a test 
Of courage and of strength by him possessed. 
He saved the lambs, but who saved him? Had 

been 
The question, till one day in pastures green. 
He, lying down beside still waters, wrote : 
"The Lord my shepherd is, I shall not want." 

He, from experience, had learned there is 
No royal road by which to reach success. 
When he left feeding fleecy flocks, and met 
Gath's boasting pride, Goliath, in combat — 
The haughty one of Gath who stood defiant, 
Fell, smitten by a stone. He slew the giant 
With shepherd's sling, returning, next to go 
To camp of friends — to find a fiercer foe ; 
For Saul, the king around whose royal brow 
He would wreathe chaplets, is against him now. 

Like frightened bird from face of fowler, he. 
To save his life must from Saul's presence flee. 



AND FULL-ORBED 185 

One foe in camp is worse than ten in field ; 
And one's worst foes are those his favors shield. 
The worst of enemies, as we've been told, 
Are often those of one's own household. 
But after all is said, a man may be — 
Aye, often is — his own worst enemy. 
Though David met and conquered outward foes, 
Yet not so easily subdued were those — 

The enemies of heart, where pleasure, pride 
And passion fought for mastery, beside 
The Evil One, against his better nature. 
Yet in each conflict he was conqueror. 
As Christians are, as every one may be, 
Through Him who strengthens us and makes us 

free. 
Then after triumphs, when is heard no more 
The din of battle, life's great conflicts o'er, 
He sits in sunshine and recalls the strife. 
Recounting mercies all along his life. 

Each day had brought with it some blessings 

new, 
Life's mercies came each morn as fresh as dew. 
God cared for David and he cares for us ; 
Though he is Lord of all the universe. 
He condescends to note the sparrows fall ; 
Beholding but a reed, once straight and tall, 
Now trampled into mire by foot of beast, 
He lovingly lets fly such words as these : 
"Though thou be broken utterly, at length 
Thou shalt stand upright aided by my strength." 



i86 FOURSQUARE 

'Tis not that man is better than we think; 
But worse ; though he may tremble on the brink 
Of ruin and despair, yet God doth send 
The message: "Not too late to mend"; 
Though aspiration be as feeble, tame, 
As candle's flicker, "I will tend the same. 
And strengthen into strong and steadfast flame." 
No one e'er fell so low, but mercy came 
To lift from depths of sin and selfishness, 
To throne of manhood and of righteousness. 

Inspiration. 

Spirit Divine that o'er creation broods. 
Filling with life the outer amplitudes 
Beyond the finite ken, thou hast by grace. 
From thy pure essence lent a spark, a trace 
Of Deity. To David's harp there came 
With penitence, remorse, and word of flame, 
Music that matched the worship of his song; 
Thus prophets spake with inspiration strong; 
Before their eyes ages to come unroll, 
And fire-touched lips recite the seraph's scroll. 

n n n 

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SOLOMON. 

Beginning well and ending ill, and "yet 
Beloved of God!" ah, let us not forget! 
Though ending ill after beginning well. 



AND FULL-ORBED 187 

There was no king like him in Israel ; 
Among the many nations none like him ; 
He whom outrageous women caused to sin." 
By marrying into heathen circles, he 
Had broken sacred law and, so to say. 
Performed the miracle of trampling down, 
Beneath his feet, himself, his noblest crown. 

"Yet" — sound of music sweet without alloy. 
And light of hope — oh syllable of joy ! 
Who then will write his own child's history 
Concluding it in woe and misery? 
Who write about a lost or wandering son 
And not conclude with mirth? can anyone? 
What would we know about that prodigal boy 
But for the final shout of household joy? 
That parable would not be worth the speaking 
But for its ending; God for men is seeking. 

"Nevertheless" — this verdict He delivers 

On poor, frail, tottering human characters. 

If God himself hath not pronounced accursed, 

Who will despise the least — give up the worst? 

In Solomon we have of life a picture : — 

Its difficulties, prayers and sins — a mixture. 

No man is wholly good or wholly bad, 

In whom is conscious process to be had 

Of education. God is judge ; enough ; 

Men's judgments are erroneous and rough. 

God sees gradations, shadings, interplay 
And promise — final outcome of each way. 



i88 FOURSQUARE 

The sentence of ourselves to lowest Hell, 

At certain moments would seem right and well ; 

At others, wings of spirits one might claim. 

And soar away to Heaven's blest domain; 

But we cannot unlock Heaven's blessedness 

By any momentary consciousness. 

Or brief experience; you are, I am, 

Judged by Career — life's purpose and programme. 

"Yet." Take that word into the family; 

'Twill shed a rosy light. And it will be 

Unto the soul a savior from despair. 

For what is this that struggles into prayer? 

"I know that I am bad in many ways — 

What means desire that wants to sing God's 

praise ?" 
There is a "Yet" in moral consciousness; 
God's spirit still doth strive to save and bless. 
Be not too utterly cast down; don't mope; 
For God may see some glint of light and hope. 

No character is measured by detail; 
The magistrate may send a man to jail — 
That is no judgment of the character, 
But of a solitary act, which, if it were 
But known, an explanation might be told; 
God weighs its turpitude in scales of gold. 
There is a lurid, tragic quality 
About these great men sinning, such as he — 
King Solomon, the King of Israel, 
Who into service of the devil fell ! 



AND FULL-ORBED 189 

God did not spare the rod, for laceration 

Is an essential part of education; 

Whoever sins must suffer. Penalty 

Is best defined by personality — 

The point from which you started — that will tell 

The meaning unto you of Heaven and Hell. 

There are some moments when we realize 

All Heaven, and, out of some ecstasies, 

We come, to say that Heaven hath nothing more, 

Or better, when we reach the other shore. 

Refinement writhes in keenest agony ; 

Of shame unconscious is vulgarity. 

How Solomon did suffer ! How did roll 

The waves of punishment about his soul ! 

How coiled snakes gathered ! punctured, burned 

With fiery poison ! Solomon thus learned 

That suflFerings are sin's unfailing heirs. 

No man could write his wisdom, pray his prayers. 

Without plunging his soul into distress 

The depth of which no feeble words express. 

And "y^t," "God will not break the bruised reed ; 

He will not quench the smoking flax," 'tis said. 

Man strives to find in kingliest a flaw. 

God says, though man has broken every law. 

Though he has been unfaithful, gone astray. 

And turned aside a thousand times, he may 

Return ; O hear the music of his love ! 

O see how far God's judgment is above, 

Man's thought and judgment, as doth here appear! 

Oh mystery of human character! 



190 FOURSQUARE 

Wisdom and Charity. 

I saw on Zion's height a wondrous shrine, 

Fit dwelHng for Jehovah, Lord divine, 

Built for his God by Solomon the Wise; 

I looked again — though not with mortal eyes : — 

The eye of faith beheld a fabric fair. 

Built by the Spirit; pillars twain were there; 

Two words thereon engraved then caught my eye 

On one "Wisdom ;" the other "Charity ;" 

And over them this legend : "These endure, 

Established, strong — but make the saying sure." 

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ELIJAH AND ELISHA. 

Out of sight the strongest characters 

In history of ancient Israel were 

Elijah and Elisha, each of whom 

Wroughtmiracles and one escaped the tomb — 

The bitterness of death he never knew; 

Both lives were filled with wonders strange as true. 

What was the reason for their strength unfailing. 

In what the secret of their lives unveiling — 

These heroes of the Oldtime Covenant? 

'Twas this : "God lives and I am His servant." 

In every strain and crisis, every hour 

When they were brought full front with hostile 



AND FULL-ORBED 191 

power, 
In trials where their natural strength would fail, 
Where they were tempted or would likely quail — 
Daunted or dazzled by material things; 
When such tremendous message as God brings 
Laid on their heart and lips to utter, then 
The secret of the power of these men, 
Was consciousness whatever path they trod, 
That they were servants of the living God. 

These two great lives, which fill so large a space 

In records of the past, may serve to brace 

Our little lives that will forgotten be 

By all mankind in half a century, 

And yet may be as full of God, as grand. 

And say : God lives before whom I too stand ; 

Where'er I am, whatever I may do, 

I am before Him — in His presence — too ; 

To my purged eye there is the living Lord, 

The ministering spirits hearkening to His word. 

How small King Ahab looked unto the eye 

Full of the brightness of the throne on high, 

Where God the real King of Israel sits ! 

How feeble, Ahab and his toothless threats! 

*T stand before the living God, and thou 

O Ahab, art a shadow only, now. 

Thy poor show pales before the brighter one. 

As candles dim, show black against the sun" — 

As we forget the green foot-hills below 

In sight of mighty summits white with snow. 



192 FOURSQUARE 

Thus going with that tahsman in hand : 
"The Lord God Hveth before whom I stand/* 
All else must dwindle into nothingness — 
Thus they were free, this is our best defence 
Against the gauds and vulgar shows of earth — 
Against its terrors. Thus, even we stand forth 
As masters, lords of all things here below; 
We are God's servants and before him bow, 
Let Ahab and Jehoram still command — 
God is the King before whom we too stand. 

What cahnness would that put into our lives ! 
What dignity one from that source derives! 
The never-ceasing boom of ocean drowns, 
As on the beach it breaks, all smaller sounds. 
Those lives are truly noble, truly great. 
In which that Voice is sounding day and night. 
Sounding on through all the lesser voices, 
Drowning in the soul all lesser noises 
And filling it as with command of law, 
~Yet lovingly with dominating awe. 

True we may shrink from making such a claim, 

When we think of our service, lives or aim ; 

Eut still, ^'I am thy servant" even we 

May truly say if, resting on what He 

Has done for us, not what we've done for Him; 

Though we must ever feel how poor, how dim 

Our services and ourselves, our light, 

And how impossible to earn a mite 

Of wages, yet whatever we deserve, 

We shall ourselves be free, that we may serve. 



AND FULL-ORBED 193 

The servant's wages is his master's smile, 
In His approval lies all most worth while; 
All that we need, the Master's presence brings ; 
That thought should deaden love for outward 

things. 
Destroy desire for money or men's praise ; 
Life's prizes all — how little each one weighs! 
No fading leaves of earthly victor's wreath 
Should fire our hope or shine before our faith ; 
And not the hollow wraith of dying fame, 
But Christ's "Well-done," should be the Christian's 

aim. 

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THE MAID OF ISRAEL. 

Here is a character, we freely state. 

It would be well for all to imitate. 

Her history abounds in helpful thought. 

This little girl from Israel was brought, 

Carried away a captive from her home, 

Into a strange and foreign land to roam, 

And in that strange and foreign land to stay 

From parents and from loved ones far away. 

And yet, so lovely was her character, 

Though slave, how can we keep from loving her? 

Her master Naaman was a leper in 
The land of Syria ; — (a type of sin 



194 FOURSQUARE 

Is leprosy, a terrible disease.) 
Though Naaman was a captain who did please 
His king, and many battles he had fought 
To save his country, this affliction brought 
Him, in the midst of honors, into grief; 
And all his money could not bring relief. 
His little captive looked upon him then, 
And wished he might enjoy his health again. 

So, sorry for her master, she one day 
While waiting on her mistress, ventured to say 
How much she wished that he would go and see 
One who could cure him of his leprosy ; 
Elisha of her native land she meant. 
Naaman believed and to the prophet went, 
Returning home quite cured. Now let us state 
The points of character to imitate: 
First then, she was forgiving, and she gave 
No thought to anger, though she was a slave. 

No murmur e'er escaped her lips, we're told, 
No bitter feeling e'er possessed her soul ; 
She felt but kindness, lovingly obeyed. 
Though she was but a little captive maid; 
Be not too proud this lesson well to learn : 
Thus good for evil we should all return. 
'Twill make our pathway smooth if this we heed 
Where otherwise it would be rough indeed. 
By overcoming evil thus with good. 
We too adorn the gospel as we should. 

Then she was gentle, unassuming; this 
Is seen in her advice — in form a wish. 



AND FULL-ORBED 195 

She did not to her master boldly go 

And tell him what she thought he ought to do. 

We read that she "said unto her mistress" — 

A point of character this should impress. 

A pretty face, 'tis true, is very nice; 

But there is beauty of far "greater price" — 

The ornament of quiet spirits, meek 

Humility of soul — which all should seek. 



Though she was meek, yet she was very brave; 

She was courageous though she was a slave; 

A Hebrew captive in a heathen land 

Yet not ashamed to bravely take her stand, 

With courage and affection speak a word 

In favor of the prophet of the Lord. 

Be not ashamed, where'er thy lot be cast. 

Of Christ, if thou would'st not have Him at last 

Ashamed of thee. Oh may thy portion be 

A Savior who is not ashamed of thee." 



That she was truthful we may feel assured, 

For Naaman did believe her and was cured. 

Oh what a difference in very look 

Between the truthful face — that open book — 

With head uplifted, and the sneaking youth! 

A liar dares not face the light of truth. 

And now behold how practical her zeal 

She really wished that Naaman should be healed ; 

And she had faith ; and made the effort too ; 

Have we the zeal to be, the faith to do? 



196 FOURSQUARE 

There is a kingdom filled with joy and love; 
And peace reigns there like peace that reigns 

above ; 
The Sun of Righteousness by day gives light, 
The Star of Bethlehem shines on at night. 
What will you for the Savior's kingdom give? 
I'll give my money, pray, and for Him live. 
This little maid was not without reward ; 
And so it is with all who serve the Lord. 
It may not be this side the pearly gate — 
A sweet surprise may there for us await. 

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JONAH. 

Sometimes a nation goes to sleep and waits 
For death, or for a life new faith creates ; 
Sometimes a city dreams upon its past. 
Like Venice retrograding sure and fast; 
And sometimes churches and communities 
Fail of material, moral progress. 
And individuals, forgetting God 
Oft lapse into the luxury of Nod. 
We read of Jonah that he was a sleeper, 
Not physical alone, but vastly deeper. 

What multitudes are like him in their acts ; 
Like him are dense unto the world of facts. 
For Jonah did not rightly understand — 
Interpret God. For Him his work was grand — 



AND FULL-ORBED 197 

He fought, inspiring armies to fight well — 
While He was but "the God of Israel !" 
Astounding was the call which showed that He 
Was interested in all humanity! 
Astounding call that points to Nineveh, 
To heathen folks that live beyond the sea ! 

The puny prophet would defeat the Lord 

By disobeying his commanding word ! 

He threw himself against God's plan like those 

Who do not join, but actually oppose, 

All world-wide movements most religiously. 

But Jonah found it hard, on land or sea, 

Jehovah to confine to Palestine. 

The same wise Father deals with us. We've seerL 

His presence in the movements of the hour. 

O do not strive to crush Almighty Power ! 

God is real, a personality; 

And duty is a stern reality. 

The prophet turned from these realities 

In an unhappy hour; and so likewise 

The world is full of knowledge-seekers — those 

Who're going forth to find what the world knows. 

Gold seekers too are numerous ; for wealth 

They barter Sunday, character and health. 

High over all — oh better far is this; 

Zeal, crowned with loyalty to righteousness. 

To put God first, to have an ultimate 
In life, ulterior to self, and great. 
Adds to the charm of life a thousandfold. 
Of future wreckage no one need be told 



198 FOURSQUARE 

Awaiting those who are without this guide; 

But be assured God does not set aside 

The law of gravity us to prevent — 

For our offense — from proper punishment. 

The man who runs from duty, we've found out, 

Must pay the fare on such a perilous route. 

Vast forces are at work debauching youth; 
Seducing manhood, womanhood, from truth; 
From virtue, honor, all the laws of God; 
Wrecking homes, endangering all good. 
Men who denounce these things are "barking 

dogs," 
*Tanatics*' and "intolerants" and "clogs." 
Not to do so imperils everything. 
The crime of Jonah was in his refusing 
To lift his voice before the enemy; 
To be a barking dog at Nineveh. 

Though silence may at times be golden, still, 
Sometimes 'tis cowardice and criminal. 
The dumb dog sees the thief and burglar prowl 
About the house, and never makes a growl ; 
His master's goods are stolen in the dark. 
But he sleeps on or fears to raise a bark. 
"What meanest thou, O sleeper," ringing came 
Rebuke from Pagan lips. It is the same 
Today. The world has scourges of all forms ; 
But God invites. His spirit woos and warms. 



AND FULL-ORBED 199 



ISAIAH. 

Howe'er it seem, the earth is holy ground, 

The world is full of Heaven, with Heaven 

crowned, 
And every bush a flame of God, and those — 
But only those — that see, take off their shoes. 
God's voice is heard in the Niagara, 
His glory, love and beauty, one can see 
In sunrise on the Matterhorn, and in 
The sunset on the Jungfrau. But for sin. 
All Earth would seem like Heaven. The seraphim 
Saw God because within they carried Him. 

Isaiah sees the seraphs' golden wings, 

And hears the message that each seraph brings. 

As "Holy, holy, holy," each one says — 

To him a vision of God's holiness. 

He sees and hears, and is dissatisfied 

With his past life; "I am undone," he cried. 

He sees the nearness of eternity ; 

Reflected in the seraphim, can see 

God's glory veiled by even their eclipse. 

And cries: "I am a man of unclean lips." 

Thus, coiled in every soul, the sleeping snake 

Begins to stir, heave in its bulk, and wake, 

When comes the thought of God into the heart. 

Is it of consciousness of sin a part — 

This natural shrinking, sense of eeriness? 

Or fear of evil's possibilities ? 

Perhaps 'tis both ; a searchlight it may be 



200 FOURSQUARE 

Revealing actions of the enemy 

Away out in the night, sure to disclose 

The heaving waters and the skulking foes. 

As closely synchronous as flash and peal, 

As soon as consciousness of sin we feel. 

And in the heart aversion for it springs, 

Are set in motion, for us, seraph's wings ; 

And sin repented of is burned away; 

As into fire you put a piece of clay. 

Though foul, its stain from surface melts as heat 

Doth permeate its innermost retreat, 

The seraph's fire a new impulse creates ; 

From hidden evil it emancipates. 

Through such experience the prophet hears 
God's '*Who will go?" His call for volunteers. 
Isaiah answers : ''Here am I, send me ;" 
God's greatest prophet afterwards to be. 
His writings are, perhaps, the most sublime 
And beautiful expression of his time, 
And finest that antiquity affords. 
Blessed are they that heed the prophet's words ; 
Who see his vision ; and more blessed still, 
Are all who strive to do his Master's will. 

The Making of a Prophet. 

My soul was aweary and I was athirst; 
Astray in the dark wilderness, sin-curst ; 
A seraphim six-winged, appeared to me 
As I approached the crossing of the way ; 
He touched my eyelids, and my eyes awoke ; 
He touched my ears, but not a word he spoke; 



AND FULL-ORBED 201 

I heard the angels singing in their flight, 
I heard the heavens shuddering in the height, 
The discords in the valley; like the voice 
Of many waters v^as the sound and noise. 

He bent down over me, yet spoke no word; 
He clove my breast asunder with a sword; 
Plucked out my trembling heart, my very soul. 
And in my breast he set a burning coal. 
Thus in the desert, like a corpse I lay, 
Until I heard a Voice that said to me: 
Prophet, arise, and hear ; with fire be filled ; 
Go forth, take heed and do as I have willed; 
O'er land and sea go till I come again, 
And with my Word give Light to hearts of men. 

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JEREMIAH. 

"A weeping prophet" Jeremiah is; 

In tears and deep aiTliction prophesies; 

And well he might; his life was one of woe. 

When he was but a boy, the haughty foe, 

In insolence, his country overran ; 

And then he must, when still but a young man, 

Jerusalem a captured city see. 

His people led into captivity, 

While by profane, unhallowed feet is trod 

The place where stood the temple of his God. 



202 FOURSQUARE 

Then he was sent with messages of woe 

And sorrow to the people, which we know 

Was sadder still. It is like joy above, 

To tell the story of redeeming love; 

Like pains below, to tell, when one is sent, 

Of woes awaiting the impenitent. 

No wonder then that Jeremiah says: 

"Oh, that my head were waters, and my eyes 

A fount," and "Woe is me — thus sad his life — 

"For I am born to be a man of strife." 

God comes and to His troubled servant speaks, 
And he is comforted, while still he weeps: 
"Oh, God, thou knowest," then the prophet says: 
"Thy words were found and I did eat them;" 

'twas 
"The joy and the rejoicing of my heart." 
What were those "words of God"? We know in 

part. 
His words of comfort, and we know as well, 
His words of warning, judgment, sin and Hell. 
To us, they are the Bible, full and true ; 
The Testaments, the Old as well as New. 

The prophet "found God's words"; that is, he 

heard 
And he acknowledged that they were God's word; 
That they were not of man he realized 
Distinctly, and most highly were they prized. 
If they are true, they gloriously are true, 
Affecting us more nearly far than do 
All other writings and more lastingly — 



AND FULL-ORBED 203 

Oh, how important that this fact we see! 
Oh, that the human race, that all mankind, 
These words, the very words of God may find! 

The "words of God" the prophet also "ate." 

This mental food should we appropriate 

Into our thinking, acting, so that we 

Shall live and act from them, and they shall be 

Our inspiration and our power, too; 

And this, by making them our rule we do. 

Then notice the result: Abiding joy 

No outward circumstances can destroy ; 

A peace 'mid suffering by night and day 

The world can neither give nor take away. 

And all the powers of hell and earth combined 

Can do no injury of any kind 

To us without our Father wills they should, — 

And then 'twill work for our eternal good. 

Our character shall one day be like His ; 

We shall be satisfied in his likeness. 

When we awake upon the other shore, 

And all earth's woes and pleasures shall be o'er. 

How small and mean our best ambition is 

When placed beside such glorious hope as this! 



204 FOURSQUARE 



EZEKIEL. 

Ezekiel, a rugged character, 

Severe and stern, forbidding and austere! 

His book is wonderful, and strange it seems ; 

Abounds in precious gems, and each one gleams 

And scintillates like some rare beauteous gem 

Set in a very dark background and frame. 

In one of these a passing glimpse he gives 

Of his home life — the life one really lives. 

We see a woman in society; 

A man engaged in business we see. 

We get acquainted with them when we stay 

With them in their own home from day to day. 

Behold Ezekiel, "the man of strife!" 

We get a glimpse of his domestic life. 

We do not see him on his wedding day, 

Or honey-moon bestrewn with flowers gay, 

But on his closing day of married life. 

The last he ever spent with his dear wife. 

We see Ezekiel without a cloud 

Upon his brow, between himself and God. 

He utters no complaint. Upon his mind 
God's lessons to the people, is, we find, 
The only thought. We occupy a place 
Conspicuous and we should prove God's grace 
Sufficient for us in our sufferings 
And people will take notice of these things. 
There are three kinds of suffering. One kind 
We bring upon ourselves ; for this we find 



AND FULL-ORBED 205 

But little sympathy; the people say: 

"It served him right ; it should have come his way." 

The sins and faults of other people bring 
To us the second kind of suffering. 
And then there is the trouble which God sends ; 
'Tis not because we have done wrong, dear friends, 
It comes like lightning flash from clearest sky; 
And God permits these things and you and I 
Should show the power of his sustaining grace; 
Then God is near, his lessons we may trace. 
Yet oft His blessings come in strange disguise — 
"He took from him the desire of his eyes." 

Now notice his obedience — how grand ! 

The people round him did not understand 

Mysterious sermons such as he did preach. 

But here was something easily in reach. 

The sight of that grand soul, as standing there. 

He looks into the face of God in prayer, 

And speaks unto the people — on his heart 

The burden that at coming of the dark, 

His wife would die — this was too much for them. 

They gathered round that they might question him. 

"Wilt thou not tell us what it is to us 
That thou shouldst do these things?" God's pur- 
poses 
Are thus revealed. Man's wisdom this is not: 
To trample our own nature under foot, 
To bear our sufferings without a sigh. 
And show that God can give us victory. 



2o6 FOURSQUARE 

We should get down upon our knees and pray 
To God to give this victory, and say: 
''There was a man — Ezekiel was his name — 
Thou gavest victory; give us the same." 

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DANIEL. 

Upon the sky of history there shines 

No brighter star than Daniel. Hungry lions, 

The combined malice of Chaldean Princes, 

Nor dread of kings' displeasure, e'er evinces 

Power to shake him in the least degree, 

In conduct, or in his fidelity 

To God. His grandeur and sublimity, 

Both intellectual and morally. 

Throw ordinary heroes in the shade. 

(He never boasted that he was self-made.) 

In intellect a giant. Look at him 

The captive without friends — his chance how slim ! 

Yet he goes on and prospers till he gains 

The highest place. Through five successive reigns 

He holds position of prime minister 

In what was then Earth's mightiest empire. 

His youthful self-denial, and his force 

Of character, foretold his after-course. 

Bright promises the future well redeems; 

As proof against temptation Daniel seems. 



AND FULL-ORBED 207 

He is presented to us as a man 

As well as prophet. If we will, we can 

All profit by his personality. 

He was a child of the captivity, 

And so are we. Our kingdom is to come. 

We too are heirs of that far greater kingdom, 

And for that kingdom we are being trained. 

Like Daniel we should constantly abstain 

From drink and everything that enervates — 

From self-indulgence that emasculates. 

Young men who sow "wild oats" must reap the 

same 
In loss of manly virtue, conscious blame; 
And reformation oft too late begins 
To stop the loss and damages of sins. \ 

For purity and innocence maintained 
Exceed both penitence and pardon gained. 
The luxuries of life which appetite 
And passion, still indulge and still invite, 
Find lessons here, which often should be told. 
Of manly purity and self-control. 

A governor of many provinces, 

Having in mind details of business ; 

A statesman and a scientist — a ''doer"; 

His time so fully occupied, I'm sure 

No man can be more busy in our day 

Yet he found time, three times a day, to pray. 

How idle then, it is for men to say, 

That they, less busy, have no time to pray. 

If they, like he, would take the time, soon we 

Effect upon their characters would see. 



2o8 FOURSQUARE 

Surrounded by weak, sinful luxury, 

The courage, manliness and purity — 

All virtues that adorn the character 

Of this God-made imperial ruler, 

Were like so many pearls strung on one string: 

Communion with his God — that nourished him, 

That fortified for perils yet to be, 

For lions' den — that dread reality — 

Then literal, is figurative with us. 

They never fail who die in a great cause. 

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BELSHAZZAR. 

Belshazzar had a haunted heart. Within 
Passed to and fro the ghosts of vanished sin. 
And that is why the hand upon the wall 
Struck instantly such terror to his soul. 
The drunken revel, only for a time, 
Had stilled the tumults of his fears. The wine 
Emboldened him and he resolved to add 
A new — a fatal — pleasure. So he had 
The gold and silver goblets, that had been 
Devoted to God's services, brought in. 
Belshazzar knew their sacredness and yet 
He desecrated them. The God who sat 
Above earth's turmoil, guiding destiny 
Who is so patient with humanity 



AND FULL-ORBED 209 

With all of its impiety; in whom 
We live and move, decreed Belshazzar's doom. 
Such sacrilege he could no longer stand. 
Belshazzar saw upon the wall a hand — 
Writing in strange and mystic characters. 
When he the writing saw he shook with fear. 

Belshazzar knew of Jehovah's character, 
And furthermore he knew his own gods were 
Not known to give such exhibitions of 
Mysterious power. His own conviction was 
That it presaged some evil unto him. 
The prophet Daniel then was ushered in, 
Who to the conscience of the monarch spoke, 
Appealing to his past ; and this awoke 
The ghosts of his remembered sins. And then, 
His doom pronounced, the king that night was 
slain. 

Belshazzar, with his aching conscience, is 

A type of those who haunted hearts possess. 

The human heart, a silent place 'tis true, 

Is peopled with strange tenants. To and fro 

They pass with messages of grief or joy, 

Those specters which encourage or annoy, — 

Those ghosts which nothing has the power to 

charm, 
To which experience of the past gives form. 
Not all of them are terrorizing ghosts ; 
Sometimes they're beautiful, harmless at most. 

But sordid ones would drag us in the mire — 
No man achieves who does not first aspire ; 



2IO FOURSQUARE 

There are the ghosts of youth's ambitions high. 
Alas that they so oft are born to die ! 
Akin to these are hopes of earthly joys, 
That haunt the hearts of other than mere boys ; 
Advise the owner of such hearts to place 
No confidence in hopes of human bliss; 
But disappointed hope is part of life, 
And we gain disciphne by fruitless strife. 

There are some visitors that tend to mar 
Our lives. Among these haunting specters are 
Needless forebodings; ills that never come — 
Yet visit hourly thus the hearts of some. 
The ghosts of undone duties left behind — 
'Tis well that they should come, to bring to mind 
Repentance and '^resolves" for better things. 
There is the ghost our buried ideals brings ; 
It is a grievous thing that willingly 
We e'er should let our high ideals die. 

Most haunting memories, save those of sins. 
That haunt the past, are these: The might-have- 
beens. 
Oh changeless record of the buried years. 
That fills the heart with sadness and with tears! 
''How different it might have been if I" — 
Flits to and fro — the specter will not die. 
Regrets about our treatment of our friends. 
Now dead, bring poignant grief that never ends. 
But the most ghastly and most noxious things 
That haunt the heart are sins remembrance 
brings. 



AND FULL-ORBED 211 

All Christians in their Lord should take their 

stand ; 
Assume their posture as those uncondemned ; 
Remember that their sins are blotted out 
The book of God's remembrance, and should blot 
Them out of their own memories. They must 
Go forward in the path of simple trust, 
With freedom of forgiven ones of God. 
They should forget the sinful paths they trod. 
The more of Christ, the freer memory, 
The more effective will their life-work be. 



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ESTHER. 

We are custodians of every charm, 

Of every talent that can help or harm 

Our fellow-men, that are on us bestowed ; 

All are the gifts, naught but the gifts of God. 

There is no accident and no mistake 

In gifts of His, whatever form they take — 

E'en though it be but physical beauty. 

A man is given strength of mind that he 

May help to carry out the purposes 

And wonderful designs God has for us. 

If a man misuse, or if he misapply, 
God-given power — 'twere better he should die. 



212 FOURSQUARE 

God takes it from him, or will not permit 
The man to prosper by the use of it. 
God gives a woman intellect or beauty, 
Or a magnetic personality; 
'Tis hers with a divine purpose bestowed ; 
Her every influence should be for God. 
If they degrade instead of elevate her 
God takes away those powers soon or later. 

God gave this Jewish maiden as we see 

A radiant, appealing beauty — she 

Was given strength of character as well — 

That she might save her people, Israel. 

She knew to what her powers could extend, 

But used them for a high and noble end. 

She saved her people from extermination 

And was made queen of the great Persian nation. 

Her parents dying in her infancy. 

She was trained by her cousin Mordecai. 

The king Ahasuerus sat in state, 

In presence of his chamberlain, a great 

And gaily arrayed court beneath a strong 

Rich canopy with gorgeous curtains hung, 

Surrounded by white columns^ where were seen 

Fine draperies of purple, blue and green; 

With rings of silver fastened, chains of gold 

Falling upon a floor, as we are told. 

Of costly marble, red and black and gray; 

'Twas then a lovely vision passed that way. 

Ahasuerus had issued a decree. 
After repudiating Queen Vashti, 



AND FULL-ORBED 213 

That beautiful virgins should be brought out 

That he might choose from them a wife. No doubt 

The air was redolent with finest perfumes^ 

And radiant with costliest of jewels, 

As the procession passed; the rank and file 

Of girlish beauty floated by the while 

We get a glimpse of Esther's character, 

She taking only what was offered her. 

She afterwards arose to loftiest height — 

Of martyrdom ; became a patriot. 

She was not put to death, but proved that she, 

For those she loved, would perish willingly. 

And living, Esther proved herself to be 

One of the loveliest names that history 

Affords — a character that ne'er can die. 

There is no "independence;" we should try 

To serve our loved ones when they look for aid,. 

As God reveals what path for us was made. 

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EZRA. 

Ezra the Scribe has scarcely had fair play 
Among the Bible readers of our day. 
True, he was no Elijah, Paul or Job, 
Only a scribe; yet did not that scribe's robe 
Cover as brave a heart as ever beat 



:2i4 FOURSQUARE 

Beneath a hero's battered shield or plate? 
We get a glimpse of high-toned faith, a strain 
Of noble feeling, seldom heard and seen, 
In the account of Ezra's preparation 
For homeward march of Judah's captive nation. 

He was ashamed to ask for soldier-band. 

But put himself and friends in God's own hand. 

It took some principle to thus refrain 

From asking what was easy to obtain 

And comforting to have. But, as he saith, 

He feels he must be true unto his faith. 

At desert-edge he halts for three short days 

His followers and with them fasts and prays; 

Then flings into the march his caravan. 

Where has there been a truer, braver man? 

Here is a man, at any rate, whose faith 

Is real; who clearly meaneth what he saith; 

Believing every word as a prose fact 

Solid enough on which to build and act. 

There's little danger of Quixotic length 

In living up to principle. One's strength 

Is shown by deeds to words obedient ; — 

Not all things lawful are expedient. 

"Give all thou ^an'st; high Heaven rejects the lore 

Of nicely calculated less or more." 

His faith is asking faith. His company 
Is halted by the river Ahava 
Omissions to repair — some final touches — 
Before they march into the wilderness ; 



AND FULL-ORBED 215 

But he has also other purposes ; 

He asks the help of God because he sees 

The dangers possible upon the road. 

He prays because he's sure of help from God. 

'Twas there, no doubt, they sang that psalm, each 

word 
So trustful! "My help cometh from the Lord." 

It was no rash adventure Ezra made. 

Through all the dreary march Jehovah led ; 

Kept them because their hope was all in Him. 

Ventures of faith have e'er rewarded been. 

We cannot set our expectations high 

Enough in God for Him to us deny. 

What we now scarcely hope, one day we shall 

Remember. When we come at last to tell 

The story of our lives, it will appear — 

How promises have been fulfilled through prayer. 

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MALACHI. 

Last of the ancient prophets Malachi, 
Stands on a mount of inspiration high, 
O'erlooking heathen gulf to prophesy 
The coming of the long-looked for Messiah; 
And of the messenger before his face ; 
And of the Savior's majesty and grace; 



2i6 FOURSQUARE 

And of the character and the reward 
Of those, the faithful few, that serve the Lord. 
"When I make up my jewels, I'll spare them, 
As spareth a man his son that serveth him." 

His words are thrilling, beautiful and grand;— 

Our meditations of the simplest kind. 

Observing first the proposition: the 

Innate attraction of true piety. 

That was man's ornament originally; 

It was his brand and stamp of pedigree 

Divine ; it also marked the tracery 

Of purposes concerning you and me. 

When he makes up His jewels shall He find 

In us that light and beauty first designed? 

This jewel, independent of its setting. 
Affords a contrast often fascinating. 
As a beacon on some headland on the wast 
Shines on the murky waste, the Holy Ghost 
Lights up the lamp of inward piety 
To shine o'er nature's dark depravity. 
'Tis recognized amidst obscurity. 
Inward misgivings and outward decay, 
And is regarded as the salt, the leaven — 
Preserving element on Earth of Heaven. 

When there is not the fragrance of a rose 
In flowery Eden — nothing wholesome grows — 
The garden stamped beneath the tempter's hoof. 
And thorns have grown across the paths, enough 
To hide the walks where lovers took their stroll; 



AND FULL-ORBED 217 

When nature seems man's funeral to toll, 
The sword is flaming fierce and all seems gone, 
And God repented that He had made man. 
He saw one lonely instance in the world 
Of piety; one solitary pearl. 

God still took cognizance when each green tree 

Was whelmed in the vast monotony ; 

When sameness of the flood hid every flower, 

The wave that merged the mountain top still bore 

The ark of God, the casket that contained 

The Jewels of the Lord which still remained. 

The recognition of true piety 

Will be conspicuous on Earth's final day. 

''Then shall the righteous shine," at His return, 

Between them and the wicked to discern. 

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JOHN THE BAPTIST. 

In all the thrilling story of mankind 
No character more interesting we find 
Than John the Baptist. More is understood 
Of his nativity and babyhood 
Than almost any other character. 
And then his life is spent we know not where, 
Until we see him as a man full grown 
Coming from the desert — not to town, 



2i8 FOURSQUARE 

But preaching in the wilderness, where force 
Of his ideas draws a great concourse. 

It would be very difficult to find 
A clearer picture, than is brought to mind 
By Bible narrative concerning John. 
The wilderness, the raiment he had on, 
His simple food of locusts and wild honey 
The atmosphere of intense reality 
Surrounding him, in word and action, and 
The perfect genuineness of the man; — 
All these are characteristic, and hence 
The narrative with interest is intense. 

In speaking of the formal Sadducees 

Or the hypocritical Pharisees 

Or to the guilty Herod on his throne 

He spoke the message God had given. John 

Was thus a man of noblest character. 

Indeed, no one who studies with due care 

The story of the Baptist can refrain 

From with the Master acquiescing in : 

"Among them that are born of women there 

Hath not arisen a greater" — anywhere. 

He was no trimmer to the popular breeze; 

"What went you out into the wilderness 

To see?" A frail reed shaken by the wind? 

No. Had you such expected him to find — 

If you had so regarded him — you would 

Have stayed at home — just as indeed they should. 

Ah, latent in the soul, in every station, 



AND FULL-ORBED 219 

There's interest in the question of salvation, 
Which is not lost through lack of cultivation, 
And does not disappear by education. 

We can imagine we are standing by 

And hear his listeners say : *'It is a lie ; 

We are not happy, we are miserable; 

O tell us, prophet of the invisible, 

About that awful world, and if you can, 

How we may find forgiveness ; how a man 

May make his peace with God." Not overdrawn 

This picture; when our health and strength are 

gone,— 
We come to look His judgment in the face; — 
How shriveled then is our self-righteousness ! 

John was a representative of those 

Who pull down hills; of everyone that goes 

Before to build up valleys — levelling, 

To make a highway for the coming king. 

John was a voice out in the wilderness 

Against sins of his time called to protest. 

His recklessness of risk — self-sacrifice — 

Abasement in the presence of the Christ, 

Show both his courage and humility ; 

In these, like John the Baptist we should be. 

A voice comes from the wilderness — a cry : 
Your only choice is turn from sin or die ; 
God's kingdom is at hand ; behold the Lord 
That Was and Is comes like a seraph's sword. 
To bend brute force unto the spirit's sway ; 



220 FOURSQUARE 

But John's faint echoes soon shall die away — 
His tidings glad by men shall e'er be heard. 
A prophet I ? Nay but a voice, a word !— 
Not so, O greater than a prophet, thou 
From Herod's dungeon rose and livest now. 

What went ye out to the wilderness to see? 
A man clothed in soft raiment? Nay, but he 
In camel's hair and leathern girdle clad, 
Brings contrite hearts the gospel that makes glad. 
And warns the wicked, heaven's wrath to flee. 
And dares to beard the haughty Pharisee — 
For One will come whose fan is in his hand; 
Than John none gone before shall greater stand; 
But yet unto the very least in Heaven, 
A greater name than unto John is given. 

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JOHN THE BELOVED DISCIPLE. 

In making manifest Christ's love, no one 

E'er did a greater work than John has done. 

At the beginning, Peter was of course. 

In some respects, the church's mightiest force 

Then came the Apostle Paul with, as we see 

Tremendous missionary energy. 

Each greatest in his way, John ranks above 

Them — doing more to bless the world with love. 



AND FULL-ORBED 221 

In gospels and epistles we're aware 
Of love pervading all the atmosphere. 

Obliterating self, he hides away 

The author's name and personality 

And calls himself one whom the Master loved — 

Not one who loved the Master, which had proved 

Mere boasting; and in this distinction is 

One of the subtlest secrets of true peace ; 

Our hope does not in love for Jesus rest, 

But in His love for us. Our love at best 

Is variable in its mood. Today 

It grows, tomorrow seems to die away. 

But when it is Christ's love for us, there is 

A peace that's not disturbed by earthly changes. 

John was of a reposeful spirit. He 

Knew how to trust, and was content to be 

Lowly — of gentle heart. He was a man 

Of noble strength, and in his soul we can 

See under quietness vast energy — 

No weakness and no effeminacy. 

But he was self-controlled ; a man of love ; 

And he had learned his lesson from above. 

John was a lad when first he met the Lord 
Beside the Jordan ; and we must regard 
John as the man developed under Christ. 
So rich in possibilities and biased 
By a beautiful and noble character, 
When Jesus met him, — he developed rare 
And radiant loveliness ; a rose, a dove, 



222 FOURSQUARE 

That grew up in the summer of Christ's love, 

And ready to receive and to respond 

To every touch of Christ's transforming hand. 

We see John chiefly through the written page 

Which was the ripest fruit of his old age. 

In youth he had a fiery temper. He 

O'er this obtained through Christ the mastery. 

Perhaps we too can conquer selfishness 

And grow, by loving, into loveliness. 

It is not possible for every one 

To be, in love, the equal of St. John; 

But close friendship with Christ will in the end 

Transform one into the likeness of his Friend. 

St. John escaped the fires of martyrdom, 

Alone, 'tis said, of all the twelve. Hear him: 

'T'm growing very old. Long since did rest 

This weary head on Jesus' loving breast ; 

Yea, often leaned, in days long past that seem, 

Amid the shadow of the years a dream 

He lays His hand upon me — not His rod ; 

I know it is the mighty hand of God, 

And yet the hand so often pressed in mine 

In friendship, passing woman's love, divine. 

I'm old, so old! I cannot recollect 

The faces of my friends, and I forget 

The words and deeds my daily life do make, 

But that dear face, and every word He spake, 

Grow more distinct as others fade away; 

I live with Him more than the living. Lay 



AND FULL-ORBED 223 

Me down upon my couch, and open wide 
The eastern window. See there comes a light 
Like that which broke upon my soul at eve 
When I in Patmos' lonely isle did live. 

But who are these that crowd the shining way? 
Say ? Joy ! 'tis the eleven — oh, 'tis they ! 
With Peter first of all ; I am the last. 
Once more we gather to the paschal feast. 
My place is next my Master. O, my Lord, 
How bright thou art ! How rich is my reward ! 
Thou art the same I loved in Galilee. 
'Tis worth the hundred years I've lived to see 
And feel this bliss ! So, lift me to thy side — 
Unto thy bosom ! There shall I abide." 

Vision on vision of glory supernal 

Broke on his soul through aeons eternal, 

And realms beyond space, as his spirit took flight; 

Mountains delectable, streams of delight, 

Oceans of crystal and islands elysian. 

Bands of the blest bent on heavenly mission, 

And Jesus himself in glory resplendent, 

In garments of pity with power transcendent, 

To John the Divine were on Patmos revealed. 

When the angel of God had his eyes unsealed. 

Oh for the vision of glory that broke 

On the soul of the saint when the Master's lips 

spoke, 
And he saw the Spirit in shape like a dove 
Descend on his Lord, and heard from above 



224 FOURSQUARE 

The Voice that called him his Son — ^yet the 

friend 
Who led him toward realms of bHss without end ; 
Who chastened his zeal, and pointed the way 
To the splendors of Zion and perpetual day, 
Love was the key to those portals of love 
That opened to earth the mansions above. 

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SIMON PETER. 

Saint Peter had a personality 

Distinct and clearly outlined ; this we see 

In all his words and intonations ; he 

•Cannot conceal his own identity. 

He cannot counterfeit — to self be false. 

He cannot swear like anybody else. 

'Had he been silent, motionless, when he 

'Was with the question charged, "Did not I see 

Thee in the garden with Him," he would have 

Still answered it in the affirmative. 

He had declared undying love; contended 
''Because of thee, though all men be offended, 
Yet will I never be offended," when 
Christ stated He would be abandoned ; then 
In presence of the mob a sword had drawn, 
Cut off the ear, the Master placed back on 



AND FULL-ORBED 225 

Rebuking him for using mere brute force; 
Peter fell back in the ranks, and worse, 
He followed at a distance; and before 
The palace halted, lingered at the door. 

Wet with midnight dew and shivering in 

The sharp winds sweeping down from Lebanon 

Whose crest was crowned with snow, Peter drew 

near 
A fire enkindled in the yard ; and here 
He entered soon into a conversation 
With bystanders. When charged with his relation 
To Christ, as His disciple, Peter, though 
His Galilean speech betrayed, said "no." 
Poor, fickle, vacillating Peter, what 
Possessed thee thus to answer: "I am not?" 

And then a torch which shone so bright and red 

Was held to Peter's face ; a soldier said : 

"Did I not see thee in the garden then 

With Him? Now I was there with a dear friend. 

We went together from the presence of 

The high priest, whose servant is this friend I love, 

And drawing near, one with the Nazarene, 

One of the bigoted disciples, then 

Bereft him of an ear. 'Twas you, I know ; 

Can you deny, sir, that you dealt that blow?" 

Now driven to a corner, Peter must 
Resort to blasphemy. He swore ; he cursed ; 
But to no purpose. Peter had no "double ;" 
Escape from self was quite impossible. 



2.26 FOURSQUARE " , 

How true of everyone, in everything ! 
"Even a child is known by his doing" 
In studying Peter we are apt to dwell 
Upon his eccentricities, and — well 
He was eccentric when compared to John, 
And we could point him out in any throng. 

But did it e'er occur to you that we 

Would as eccentric seem to him as he 

Does seem to us. We are as unlike him 

As he is unlike us — the gap's the same. 

Men's deeds but photograph their minds and 

hearts ; 
Mean-minded men cannot act out grand parts. 
And the reverse of this is just as true; 
Large-hearted men no little things can do. 
Deeds mark the man ; man also marks the deed, 
A man's whole life springs out of his real creed. 

Oh had he seen how every galaxy 
Of all the worlds would blend toward Calvary 
In admiration mute! Oh, if we knew 
How all the stars and constellations do 
Rejoice in the redemption He hath wrought, 
We would rush forth, unquestioned and un- 
sought, 
Declaring to the shining hosts above: 
I am His son, begotten of His love. 
At midnight, saint! Ere day a devil hath! 
There's but a step between the soul and death. 

Down from the cross — from Heaven comes the cry : 
''Turn ye ; turn ye ; for oh why will ye die ?" 



AND FULL-ORBED 227 

Here at the cross where flows the cleansing blood 
That bought my lost and guilty soul for God, 
Thee my new Lord and Master, now I call, 
And consecrate to Thee my life, my all. 
Take my poor sinful heart and let it be 
Forever closed to all opposed to Thee. 
Seal thou my mind and heart and let them wear 
The pledge of love for Thee forever there. 

Simon Bar Jona. 

Bare-kneed he waded in the reedy lake, 
Or hoisted sail where rougher waters break. 
Or pushed his scallop from the rocky shore 
With stalwart arms and plied the bladed oar ; 
Beneath whose heavy brows there gleamed dark 

eyes 
With lambient fire. But why this glad surprise? 
Why should he be Messiah's chosen friend? 
Ah, He discerns whose kingdom knows no end : — 
This fisherman of bleak Gennesaret, 
He bade henceforth for men to cast his net. 

Peter the Confesser. 

Walking wearily on a summer day 
Toward the city, when they halt to pray, 
Christ asked of His disciples: By what name 
The people spake of Him ; they said His fame 
Was that of a prophet, EHjah or John. 
But whom say ye I am? Thou'rt Christ the Son 
Of the living God, said Peter; then said the Lord 
Thou art Petros — a rock; upon this word — 



228 " ' FOURSQUARE 

This rock, I'll build my church ; and thou art blest ; 
My Father showed thee what thou hast con- 
fessed. 

Peter the Denier. 

The King of Glory took the cup of shame; 
All the apostles, who had in His name 
Wrought miracles, fled from Him sore afraid, 
But Peter followed, though afar, and stayed 
Outside the throng and yet within the court. 
Then said a maid: Thou too make thy report, 
Thou Nazarene. Peter cursed, denied he knew 
The Man of Sorrow ; when the cock twice crew, 
He was aware and wept. Oh, human heart. 
How strong, how weak, how wonderful thou art ! 

Peter After Penteost. 

Where late ye fled a flock of fugitives. 

Because your Christ was dead, now that He lives, 

And ye have seen Him, all your fears are ceased; 

Nor Herod, Pilate, Sanhedrin or priest 

Can awe you any more; for Pentecost, 

With zeal for Christ, has made each man a host; 

With what men most desire esteeming least, 

Death is as welcome as a marriage feast. 

Transformed by grace, no more thy soul shall 

quail — 
Nor 'gainst the Rock the gates of Hell prevail. 



AND FULL-ORBED 229 

JUDAS ISCARIOT. 

There's something in the name of this poor man 

Attention rivets as few others can ; 

There is a sort of fascination in 

The story of his wickedness and sin. 

When we begin, we find it hard to close 

Till we have reached its final awfulness. 

His name significantly is the last 

One to be found with the Apostles classed; 

Why was it that the last one was the worst, 

While Peter's name, in Mark, is mentioned first? 

The one denies the Savior with an oath ; 

The other sells the Savior, and he goeth 

Into eternity, the awful sin 

Against him charged ; what difference then ? 

The difference between the two was this: 

Their sins were almost equally heinous, 

But one repenting found that grace can save ; — 

Remorsefully, one sinks into his grave. 

One is a mighty preacher for all time; 

The other chills, with horror of his crime. 

The question that most naturally arises 
In studying the life of Judas is : 
"Why was he chosen?" But we well may ask 
Why we were chosen to perform our task ; 
Knowing our hearts, our weakness as we must 
Why were we chosen for life's sacred trust? 
The twelve apostles represent all kinds 
Of human nature that one elsewhere finds; 
Which goes to show that if we truly yield 
To God, he uses us. Here Judas failed. 



230 FOURSQUARE 

Perhaps the reason he was called may be 
To serve a warning to you and me ; 
A warning to all living since his day. 
God said to Jonah : "Go to Nineveh ; 
But in rebellion he for Tarshish sailed ; 
We know how miserably Jonah failed. 
A warning, too, were Jacob and Esau. 
Can we forget God's universal law 
Of reaping what is sown in life of Saul? 
But as a warning, Judas leads them all. 

The name of Judas causes one to shudder. 
He is throughout eternity "a murderer," 
Because of grace rejected ; if his sin 
Is unf orgiven ; yet he might have been 
All that God could approve. Just think of it! 
Although he may have been a hypocrite, 
Perhaps some sin, small in its beginning, 
Progressed unto its most terrific ending. 
Howe'er it be, whether hard or smooth the way 
Of transgressors, the end must be dismay. 

D n n 

n n 

n 



JUDE, THE OBSCURE. 

The traveler who knows a country, seen 
Alone from public roads, has never been 
In touch with all its treasures of deHght, 
Its lanes and field-paths offer to the sight. 



AND FULL-ORBED 231 

The Bible has its several highroads too ; 
They are well used by readers, and they do 
Securely lead us to our journey's end. 
On either side do noble prospects lend 
Their loveliness, but they who only know 
It thus, have missed the beauty by-paths show. 

Jude's epistle lies off the main track ; 

To study Jude, then one must travel back 

To one of these byways. We've scarcely turned 

Into the by-lane ere Jude is discerned. 

Salute him: '']\xdQ, I believe is thy name?" 

"Yes, I am Judas the brother of James." 

"What? James, the Elder of Jerusalem? 

Of James, the Brother of the Lord?" "Yes.'' 

"Then 
You are yourself the Master's brother, too?" 
"I am. I would not say that — yet 'tis true." 

In this our day we have been making much 
Of brotherhood of Christ; we strive to touch 
The burden bearer of Capernaum. 
We need to ponder and to understand 
The reasons which led in the other way 
All of the Christians of the elder day. 
Peter, James and John, as well as Jude, 
Had known Christ one among the multitude. 
Him they described ; but after Pentecost 
All that is gone — they know another Christ. 

They look up now and humbly bow before 
"Our only Master," "only Lord." Therefore 



232 FOURSQUARE 

"The bond-servant of Jesus Christ" we see 

In this by-lane of Bible scenery. 

"How did you come to write it, Jude?" Again, 

Reply is revelation of the man; 

This humble Jude confesses that he once 

Was stirred up, "was giving all diligence" 

Within his soul the modest ambition 

To write about "Our Common Salvation." 

Grand theme ! But then an urgent need arose. 
Things were going wrong; so Judas throws 
Himself into the crisis. Clamorous need 
"Constrained" him, and he wrote instead 
Of that treatise, this brief letter — a few lines. 
This tract, this two-page leaflet, "for the times." 
But God knew best what Jude could do the best, 
He also knew how Jude could be most blest 
In serving us by word as well as act ; 
And so Jude leaves naught save this little tract. 

One other thing I'd like to ask of Jude, — 
But he has gone, and I will not obtrude 
With further questions. But I'd like to know 
Why Jude's resembles Peter's writings so. 
Was it because each was inspired ; indeed, 
That nothing better then could have been said? 
Quite clearly not originality. 
So much as usefulness, with Jude can be 
The thing most at a premium. And so — 
Perhaps it is with the Great Author, too. 



AND FULL-ORBED 233 



THOMAS, THE DOUBTER. 

Thomas must have been a rara avis, 

For like an honest doubter he behaves. 

He was in doubt about the resurrection, 

In difficulty over the objection. 

That afterwards was raised, as Paul has said 

By some of his hearers : *'How will the dead 

Be raised, and with what body will they come?" 

The same objection still may trouble some. 

It troubled Thomas, who always as here, 

Is like himself, — delineation clear. 

We see him now — a man thick-set and solid. 

Slow in his movements, beetle-browed and stolid ; 

A splendid man, indeed, if he can be 

Induced to move once "unanimously." 

Big things are slow, but some, we have found out, 

Slow to believe are very quick to doubt. 

Great doors sometimes on little hinges swing; 

Great rivers flow from a very little spring. 

Eclipse of faith, permanent or fleeting, 

Is often caused by absence from the meeting. 

'Twas so with Thomas; had he so desired, 

He could have been there. Doubtless he was tired 

Of John and Peter and those women too. 

Ah, Thomas, I've a simple cure for you. 

'Tis fellowship. You cannot understand ; 

Great things have happened ; greater things at 

hand. 
You want to be alone and think it out ; 



234 FOURSQUARE 

But Christian-fellowship would cure thy doubt. 
Be present at the meeting. Yes, Thomas 
And bring along with you one Didymus. 

Now Thomas really wanted to believe ; 
It made him nearly mad, and he did grieve, 
To think he doubted — fought against his doubts. 
We show our unbelief to all about us ; 
Display our doubts, just as a white cockade 
Is placed upon a hat to be displayed. 
We're proud, conceited. How indifferent 
We are and slow to follow our best Friend. 
If the "per cents" go up it makes us glad. 
If they go down it makes us very sad. 

They say that there will be no grief in Heaven, 

Nor any tears or signs of sorrow even ; 

It seems to me when first we reach that place 

That some of us must greet with downcast face 

Him whom we've treated so. It is a shame 

To harbor doubt ; for it is just the same 

Old stupid thing that it has ever been — 

Sits self -contented with its fingers in 

Its mouth, or self-conceited with its thumb 

Beneath suspender, blind and deaf and dumb. 

Faith is an open eye and heart, a throb ; 
A personal experience with God. 
Faith looks into His face though far away 
And hearkens to what it can hear Him say. 
The ever-present Master sees the heart, 
Beholds its hopes and bids its doubts depart. 



AND FULL-ORBED 2^^ 

And he is ever ready to relieve ; 

O do not be despondent, but believe! 

Thomas rose from his despondency; 

There v^as "a light on the far side," we see. 

He was not all the time in an eclipse ; 

Faith conquers ; and there rings out from his lips 

As bells peal forth from lofty steeple, the 

Great exclamation, reverent, joyously: 

''My Lord," "My God." Never before the throne 

Was there a higher witness than here borne. 

"As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, 

Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm, 

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are 

spread. 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head." 

D D D 

n n 

n 

BARTIMAEUS AND ZACHAEUS. 

'Twas in the fair city of Jericho 

Where the stately palms and balsam trees grow. 

The place was excited ; the passover 

And presence of Jesus of Nazareth were, 

With popular belief that David's son 

Would presently sit upon David's throne 

And restore the kingdom of Israel, 

Occasion of this ado. The people 

Were surging through narrow streets, thronging all 

Housetops and clustering along each wall. 



2Z^ FOURSQUARE 

They would see Jesus ; yet of all of them 
That strove to see, but two really saw Him : 
A blind man whose name was Bartimaeus 
And the chief publican named Zachaeus. 
Unlike they were in this ; one poor, one rich 
Yet they were much alike in this ; that each 
Had difficulties in his way; one was small. 
And one so blind he could not see at all. 
Of all who came to see, these were the last; 
Yet they came nearest Jesus ; saw Him best. 

Now Jesus comes. His name on every tongue; 

Excitement grows, and bursts into a song, 

A cry, a shout. What can this blind man do? 

Two things ; all depends on which of the two. 

He can sit there and sigh : I wish that I 

Could see Him, but there is no use to try 

To get to Him in such a crowd as this. 

And so it is today; and ever is; 

Jesus of Nazareth now passeth by; 

All can be helped and healed who will but try. 

That is the other thing this man can do, 
And does. He hears the tumult and asks : "Who 
Is it?" "Jesus the Prophet passeth by." 
And instantly there rings out loud the cry: 
"Thou son of David have mercy on me." 
"What wilt thou that I should do unto thee?" 
He cried : "Lord that I should receive my sight." 
Here was a man to whom the view was bright; 
He drank the rapturous music in his soul : 
"Go thy way, thy faith has made thee whole." 



AND FULL-ORBED 237 

Now turn to Zachaeus the publican 
And hear what the Pharisees say of him; 
They have not a good word for him, we know : 
''He is the sinner, the worst in Jericho." 
There are four things we know about Zacheus 
And each one helps to make the case the worse. 
He was a publican ; of them the chief ; 
And he was rich — some said he was a thief ; 
And he was small; 'tis curious to see 
How much in stature dwells morality. 

Now turn to see what we think of this man. 
I am afraid we try how much we can 
Be like the Pharisee. The publicans 
Were the tax-collectors for the Romans ; 
They were not necessarily, though hated, 
Either scoundrels, or to their people traitors. 
When Jesus passed by in Capernaum 
He saw amidst the boats and fishermen. 
One busied with his toils as one could be, 
And Jesus said to Matthew : "Follow me." 

Look at Zacheus, just a little more ; 

I am not sure but we've seen him before; 

Perhaps we've heard his voice in some time gone ; 

Oh yes ! Do you remember that when John 

Baptized in this locality, there came 

Some publicans? I think among the same 

I see one, short of stature, just a runt, 

Determined then and eager, right in front ; 

He speaks for all : "Master, what shall we do ?" 

"Go back," says John, "Exact no more than's due." 



238 FOURSQUARE 

Henceforth methinks this was his rule ; but few 
In Jericho knew how much more — he knew : 
''Zachaeus gives half of his goods to the poor ; 
If he wrongs one, fourfold he does restore." 
Here was a man with whom religion ran 
Right through his dealings with his brother man. 
You tell me where you go to church on Sunday ; 
But tell me how you are at home on Monday. 
Religion that can keep one through the week — 
Make self-forgetful, is the kind to seek. 

This man they call a sinner ; Poor Zachaeus ! 
Thousands still are living in his place. 
Alas that doubt and scorn of Christians should 
Make it so hard for many to be good! 
We try to bring men to a sense of sin ; — 
Hear what the Savior had to say to him : 
"This day is salvation, come to this house; 
The son of Man is come to save the lost." 
Earth's bravest knight and truest gentleman 
Was Jesus Christ, the outcast's champion. 

D D D 
D D 

n 



MARY AND MARTHA. 

Three pictures of these women illustrate 

Progress and attitude as they relate 

Each to the other ; or, if you choose, 

We may look upon them as dissolving views; 



' AND FULL-ORBED 239 

The first one melts into the second, and 
That one into the third ; we understand 
That underlying truths these pictures teach, 
Although distinct are much the same in each. 
The first is beautiful, for is it not 
In our Great Master's life the brightest spot? 

The Son of Man ne'er had on earth a home ; 
That is, a home that He could call His own. 
But here He had a home of friendship. He 
Could in this place fling off restraint and be, 
In home of these good women and their brother, 
At home as He perhaps could in no other. 
Now look at these two women in our view ; 
Martha busy, bustling, eager to do 
For everybody but herself, and she 
Almost forgets her personality. 

When Jesus comes we see this woman run 
Into the kitchen ; nothing left undone 
So that the Lord may have her very best, 
And Martha's every thought is for her guest. 
But what is Mary doing? "Also sat" — 
She had been busy, I am sure of that; 
She did her share before the Master came. 
Then sitting at his feet, was she to blame? 
No. Martha cumbered, fretful, is in the wrong. 
These things to our first picture all belong. 

The next scene is from the eleventh of John. 
All in that home is changed; the sunshine gone, 
And darkness settled down. Prosperity 



240 FOURSQUARE 

Has given way to harsh adversity. 

Lazarus is ill, and Jesus is not there. 

Martha runs to meet the Master. Where 

Is Mary? In the house. What happened? See? 

'The master has come and calleth for thee." 

"Then Mary came and fell down at His feet 

And Martha's words to Christ she did repeat. 

Same words, but with a different effect; 

The Master "groaned in spirit" ; "Jesus wept.." 

Though he is going to heal the broken heart, 

He sympathizes with the pain. The part 

This second picture teaches, is no doubt. 

To wait in trials till God calls us out. 

The last picture also is found in John ; 

It is of the same people, the same home. 

But what a change! Mary listening; while yet, 

Martha through her serving first must get. 

But what of Mary? Lovely is the view 
This picture gives of her. I'm sure if you 
Have studied carefully Christ's life you can 
Not fail to see He was a lonely man. 
Oh Son of God, without a single heart 
To sympathize with thee, thou surely art 
In thy soul-passion lonely! There was one 
That saw the cross — forget it not ye men — 
It was a woman, last at the cross, her name 
And hers that sat at Jesus' feet, the same. 

And Mary is the messenger that brings 
First news of the resurrection. These things 
Are not forgotten. Mary goes in there, 



AND FULL-ORBED 241 

Anoints His feet, and wipes them with her hair. 

Love is extravagant, but nothing is 

Or can be wasted in a cause like this. 

She sympathizes with His suffering; 

And she anoints Him to His burying. 

The golden link that makes these pictures one 

Is ''At His feet." "She what she could hath done/' 

Saints on Earth. 

Meek Mary thou hast chosen the better part. 
In spite of burdens laid upon thy heart ; 
The world thou livest in still onward fares ; 
Why, Martha, cumber thyself with cares? 
Though busy from the rise to set of sun, 
Thou fearest that thy work is not all done. 
In deeds for others yet with will as strong. 
Good works begun must be carried along; 
'Tis thus that the web of the world is spun: 
By Mary and Martha, joined in one. 

n n n 

n n 

n 



CLAUDIA, PILATE'S WIFE. 

Pilate is standing in the shadow ; he 

Has darkened eyes so that he does not see 

Significance of the hour in which he lives 

And acts his part ; but there is something gives 

Unto the picture a halo of light; 

And Claudia, his wife, to whose clear sight 



242 FOURSQUARE 

And opened eyes are visions from above, 
A warning sends to Pilate — with her love: 
"Have naught to do, nothing that is unfair. 
With that just man who stands before thee there.' 

The message made on him a marked impression; 
But Pilate, governed as a politician. 
But tried to wriggle out of his position — 
Which ultimated in the crucifixion. 
Thus Claudia saw what Pilate could not see; 
And women as a class, it seems to me, 
Have better views pertaining to religion — 
Clearer conceptions of its truths, than men. 
This is not true, by any means, of all — 
Compare Lucrezia Borgia with Paul. 

But we can hardly fail to recognize 
Religious aptitude, and open eyes 
For things divinely true, in women, that 
The sterner sex and coarser-grained have not. 
It is impressive that no woman cried: 
"Away with Him, let Him be crucified." 
Nor do we find a woman e'er enjoying 
Perplexing questions asking and annoying 
The Master; or, like Judas, for lucre dirty, 
Betraying Him for silver pieces thirty. 

The Syro-Phenician woman had eyes 
To see the marvelous in Christ ; likewise 
Did this wife of a Roman governor, 
Heathen though, or proselyte, they were. 
It is the glory of all womanhood 



AND FULL-ORBED 243 

To see, and to have fellowship with God. 
Some day will scenes of earth all be reversed ? 
Will Pilate stand before the Judge accursed? 
And Claudia bear witness against him then? 
"Have nothing wrong to do with that just man." 

n n n 
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D 



THE PENITENT THIEF. 

This malefactor proved himself to be, 

In last distress, in life's extremity, 

One of the greatest men that e'er did live. 

If you will analyze his thought and give 

Attention to his language, you will see 

That in conception and audacity. 

In breadth and penetration, he displayed. 

No greater speech by man was ever made. 

This speech was real and spoken every word ; 

To no romancist could it have occurred. 

What did the dying malefactor do 
To prove his intellectual greatness? Who, 
Condemned with him to die the shameful death, 
Was hanging near, approaching final breath? 
All others ridiculed by look and word ; 
But in the Victim he could see the Lord. 
He says "Lord" to the dying Nazarene! 
Audacious utterance! To say "Lord" then 



244 FOURSQUARE 

Was out of chaos, cosmos to create ; 
And gloom of countless ages penetrate. 

The dying malefactor, one who could 

Have played with thrones and kingdoms if he 

would, 
Did more than in the victim see the Lord ; 
He saw beyond death, life — and life's reward. 
Consider where he is; upon a cross, 
All hope seems gone, all gain is surely loss. 
But is he throttled, killed, a beast thrust through 
Baptizing earth with red to blend with blue? 
Ah, no! He cannot die. Death cannot be, 
In touch with him who breathes eternity. 

"But you are dying now ; this hour's your last ; 

Your strength is gone ; your breath is failing fast." 

"No! Death is but a momentary strife; 

Soon I will come into a larger life. 

Death scarcely shall a moment's shadow be 

If only this man will remember me." 

Who ever made so grand a speech as this, 

In place and circumstances such as his. 

What is our speech? A sad farewell? Our faith? 

A dark uncertain destiny from death? 

And thus the malefactor spoke for Christ. 

Into what strange relations life is cast! 

Our friends are dumb or else from us are hiding. 

Our enemies are mocking and deriding, . 

And our defense is made by tongues like this. 

He said : "This man hath nothing done amiss." 



AND FULL-ORBED 245 

We all may speak for Christ ; be it our aim 
His holiness and power to proclaim; 
Though slow of speech, not slow of action ; each 
May live a life who cannot make a speech. 

"Today thou'lt be with me in Paradise." 

What answers Christ can give ; what great replies. 

We take to Him our rivulet ; He gives 

The ocean in return. So nothing lives 

But love ; contempt kills its votaries ; 

But love encouraged doth enlarge and bless. 

Did not this thief in that brief interview 

Say more for Christ than, all our lives, we do? 

He hailed Him Lord ; He triumphed over death, 

Ascribed to Him a crown. Be his our faith. 

n D n 
n n 



LUKE, THE BELOVED PHYSICIAN. 

St. Luke, although a man of medicine. 
Well known as the "beloved physician," 
Walked closely in the footsteps of the Lord. 
Though no apostle, his writings afford 
One of the best views of the Son of Man. 
Oh, I do not believe that any doctor can 
Fall into error of materialists 
If, in his mental make-up, there exists 
The blessed gift of an imagination 
Or a touch of insight and appreciation. 



246 FOURSQUARE 

The saving grace of humor too defeats 
The supposition that the brain secretes 
Thought, as the Hver secretes bile. Though fools 
May think, by rearrangements, molecules 
Produce love, courage and self-sacrifice. 
Unspeakably ridiculous it is. 
Nor will vague cosmic incoherencies 
Of "Not-ourselves-Which makes for Righteous- 
ness" 
Suffice one for a creed. Will that explain 
The constant miracle of wise design ! 

Fraud cannot build up, through the ages, truth ! 
Luke as a writer has immortal youth; 
He has more readers on the earth today 
Than all the living authors. More to say 
Has he of Christ than Matthew, Mark or John. 
Of Paul he was the faithful companion. 
"Only Luke is with me," Paul doth write us, 
And sends the letter by the hand of Titus, 
"And also Luke whose praise is in the gospel," 
He shared the labors of the great Apostle. 

I think of Luke as first of a long line 

Of Christian doctors, men of medicine, 

Appreciating opportunities 

That their great calling to the world presents ; 

First in a line of Christian Scientists, 

Anatomists and physiologists. 

Oh, to the man who grasps the true ideal 

Of the physician — strives to make it real. 

Alleviating human suffering — 

It is indeed a high and holy calling! 



AND FULL-ORBED 247 



STEPHEN, AN OFFICIAL LAYMAN. 

Stephen is the man with shining face 

Who comes down through the ages ; and hi^ 

place 
Upon the page of Holy Literature 
Until the end of time will stand secure. 
He flashes but a moment, and is gone — 
His influence and example still live on. 
Devout men bear him to his grave and mourn. 
Although we do not know where he was born, 
We know where he has gone. "Receive my 

spirit." 
When he went up to Heaven, all worlds knew it. 

What of his qualities ? They seem to be : 

He was a man of strict integrity, 

Whose character was favorably known ; 

A man of honorable reputation. 

Superior culture he had not enjoyed, 

But knowledge to good purpose was employed. 

What God promised, Stephen believed He'd do ; 

And just as firmly in His threatenings too. 

He was a man full of the Holy Ghost, 

The measure he received at Pentecost. 

A man with such endowments always hath 

The power to stir to virtue or to wrath. 

Some people have a rare immunity 

From getting hit ; a rarer faculty 

Of never hitting anybody. They 

Are prudent men, conservative, some say. 

They're not extremists, never radical; 



248 FOURSQUARE 

With politics or religion ne'er meddle ; 

In all their efforts, nothing is their aim — 

They hit their mark, and hit it every time. 

Not so with Stephen ; stirring wrath and strife 

In stirring love, he sacrificed his life. 

The spirit of this layman was a flame 

Of fire, sweeping everything that came 

Before it. Stephen's wisdom was from Heaven, 

And more than matched the combined knowledge 

even 
Of those five synagogues which had arrayed 
Themselves against him. He had made 
Them mad. His words had cut them to the core 
Until they closed their ears and heard no more. 

With hate malignant they gnashed with their teeth, 
Condemning him to an ignominious death. 
Was Stephen prudent? His defence of truth 
Cost him his life ere he had passed his youth. 
He might have lived much longer, it is true ; — 
He had a more important end in view. 
He was contending for the Crucified, 
Whose personal presence was by his side. 
In estimating life, it is agreed. 
We should not count by years ; but by the deed. 

This modest layman was so full of Heaven 
His face shone like an angel. God had given 
To him a view of Heaven opened wide ; 
His saintly eyes beheld the Crucified. 
Saul, standing by, but urged the murderers on, 
But looking with an interest Heaven alone 



AND FULL-ORBED 249 

Can feel, Christ welcomed His first martyr home. 

That was indeed a Heavenly welcome ; 

While Stephen's prayer thrilled Earth and 

Heaven and Hell. 
Grace did what it could do for us as well. 

nan 

n n 

n 



SAUL OF TARSUS, ALSO CALLED PAUL. 

Paul ranks among the bravest of the brave ; 

The truest of the true. His life he gave 

In one succession of vicissitude, 

In helping heavenward, in doing good. 

While Paul was great in scholarship, and great 

In eloquence — the power to create 

An audience composed of many nations, 

An audience of many generations, 

The greatest man of the first century. 

He was likewise great in humility. 

Paul had been a bitter persecutor; 

The countenance of Stephen, and his prayer. 

His tenderness, forgiveness, and compassion, 

And testimony, made a deep impression, 

Upon the mind and heart of the apostle. 

"'Lay not this to their charge," had made him feel 

Stephen's superiority. Though pride 

May urge him on, he is dissatisfied 



250 FOURSQUARE 

The face of Stephen, ever and anon, 

He sees, though insane zeal still draws him on. 

Sometimes he hears the voice of Stephen say: 
"Lay not this to their charge" — thus hears him 

pray. 
And then he hears the words of Jesus too: 
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do." 
He sees the form of Him he crucifies. 
"Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" he cries. 
And quicker than the lightning's flash, to him 
There comes, though smitten till his sight is dim, 
The glory of the Lord which swallowed all 
His false ambitions ; henceforth he is Paul. 

Paul was "a chosen vessel." God did make 

Him see great things, to suffer for Christ's sake. 

And God is calling yet ; He is in quest 

Of men who are inspired to do their best. 

The only man in the apostolate 

Or in the world perhaps prepared to meet 

The great requirements of that hour was Paul. 

Survey the work to which this man was called; 

There were three civilizations we know. 

Hostile each to each, insensely so. 

The Jewish was about what Romanism 

Is to modern ecclesiasticism. 

It claimed to have the only true succession ; 

Without its hands there was no consecration. 

It was high church in letters of display ; 

It was aristocratic with a large A; 



AND FULL-ORBED 251 

And it was bigoted with a big B ; 
Exclusive with an exceedingly large E. 
Grasping, avaricious, from its birth, 
Its mission was to Judaize the earth. 
Ml i ! 

A man is needed, trained in Hebrew faith, 
Well-versed in Hebrew lore ; a man who hath 
Within his veins the blood of Israel — 
A Pharisee of Pharisees, as well; 
And such was Paul — all of this he had been. 
No wonder Judaism dreaded him. 
In Grecian ideal : — thought, color, form 
Reached their rare fruitage of peculiar charm. 
'Twas here the Iliad was born, and here 
Had Sappho lived and breathed her wondrous 
lyre. 

Here Sophocles, Euripides, Plato 

And Aristotle — men of whom we know. 

With minds acute and crowned with culture, 

wrought 
Out systems of philosophy, and thought. 
So decked in garniture of purple sea, 
They cast a spell of wondrous wizardry. 
Although not pious, they had many gods. 
And built an altar to *'the unknown god.' 
Athens was the real plain of Shinar ; 
Greeks, builders of the real Babellian Tower. 

Who could win them from their false ideal? 
Who could make them really spiritual? 
Certainly only one that was their equal. 
And such an one we see they found in Paul. 



252 FOURSQUARE 

Trained in earth's greatest schools, "much learn- 
ing" had — 
According to one Festus — "made him mad." 
The Roman ideal, we know, of course, 
Was a civilization of brute force. 
"All Romans were greater than kings," says one. 
So thought the Romans; Paul was a Roman. 

Paul had a good physique, an iron will ; 

A heart of love that makes us love him still ; 

"All thoughts" — "whatever stirs this mortal 

frame 
Are ministers of love," and "feed its flame." 
The attitude of Paul for Christ reveals 
An overwhelming love for Him. He feels 
No matter what the circumstance may be 
A willingness to die for Christ, and he 
E'en counted it a joy always to make 
A sacrifice of suffering for His sake. 

One glimpse of Christ, and Paul was His forever ! 
Naught from the love of Christ his soul could 

sever. 
One glimpse of love divine, and love became 
With Paul henceforth a vast, consuming flame, 
Destroying evil, filling with delight, 
All that is good. Oh that we had his sight! 
Oh that the love that compassed him might find 
And compass still, yea compass all mankind; 
For oh, the Master was, and is, so fair; 
His smile hath power still to banish care ! 



AND FULL-ORBED 253 

Saul of Tarsus. 

What hasty horseman rides the dusty road? 
A Jew, who at Gamaliers feet abode, 
And all the learning of the ancients knew, 
A Pharisee of Pharisees, who grew 
Wise in the law of Moses, Israel's code, 
Bending his shoulders to the Talmud's load ; 
So that his zeal was stirred against the crew 
Of recreant Hebrews, their schism to subdue ; 
To shield the Covenant with stubborn will ; 
Saul's purpose large — God's plan was larger still. 

Paul, the Apostle. 

Proud Saul, on bigotry's harsh mission bound, 
When lo ! a sudden glory shone around. 
He fell with all his band. O Paul, in vain 
Didst thou consent to witness Stephen slain ; _ 
Almighty power can human plans confound. 
Thy zeal and learning, brave heart, clean and 

sound, 
The Lord had need of ; so that thou didst gain 
Through blindness sight, with right to suffer 

pain. 
The Voice that spake to thee, gave thee a voice 
That bade the Gentile world in thee rejoice. 



254 FOURSQUARE 



THE ONE PERFECT LIFE. 

Thus ends our study of these characters, 
So various ! Not one of them appears — 
None save the Man Divine hath ever been — 
Free from infirmity of fault or sin; 
Of Him, his enemies are forced at last. 
To say that He has never been surpassed ; 
And that all coming ages will proclaim. 
Among the sons of men, none greater came ; 
His "Legend" will forever call forth tears; 
His worship will grow younger with the years. 

Most cultured rationalists have said that He 

Cannot be studied save on bended knee ; 

So perfect is His character, that they 

Cannot behold in any other way 

The facts pertaining to His spotless life. 

Approached by helplessness, assailed by strife. 

When did His answer ever fall below 

Occasion? or when did He ever show 

A shallowness of sympathy? or say 

Such words as littleness of thought betray? 

When was He guilty of duplicity ? 
Or poverty of action? when did He 
E'er fail to do a deed that should be done? 
When did He ever do a heedless one? 
The only perfect character e'er seen 
Was that illustrious Man of Palestine. 
And His the one example that is given 



AND FULL-ORBED 255 

To lead the wandering feet of Earth toward 

Heaven. 
In Christ's career all virtues blend and glow 
Symmetrical as colors in the bow ; 

Each virtue reached a full maturity 

And every word flashed inward purity. 

He breathed an atmosphere of sanctity 

And ''He allured to Heaven and led the way." 

He challenges His foes to name a flaw 

In His obedience to moral law. 

None can gainsay — that He of whom we speak 

In absolute perfection stands unique ; 

One perfect life humanity hath seen, 

In solitude among earth's model men. 

His words and deeds, pure as the crystal sea 

Beheld by John at Patmos, e'er agree. 

He teaches His dieciples, as we see 

By washing all their feet, humility. 

Inculcating obedience He still 

Shows His delight to do the Father's will. 

Enforcing self-abnegation, He said, 

He had no place where He might lay His head. 

Amid unpromising environment. 

His life replete with moral toil was spent. 

He knew all things ; announcing He could read 
His hearers' secret thoughts. He saw each deed, 
Events transpiring on the earth, in Heaven. 
Facts lay before His intellectual vision 
As features on the mirror they confront. 
He saw the farthest star, or sun, or planet 



256 FOURSQUARE 

On its orbital, tireless march; and He 
Beheld on mountain slope the humblest pansy. 
His gaze for things afar was telescopic, 
And for things near and small was microscopic. 

Oh, who can doubt that Jesus was divine ! 

His Father's attributes in Him combine ; 

Foreknowledge, wisdom, and supremacy, 

Omnipotence, immutability ; 

In Christ we all of God's perfections see — 

His loveliness and impartiality. 

His blessedness, His mercy, faithfulness, 

Forbearance, justice, love and truthfulness, 

Proofs of His Deity bestud with light 

The Scriptures, as the stars bestud the night. 

And shall He come back to this earth again 
To build with song the broken hopes of men? 
Oh, yes. His star is now upon its way ; 
He comes, but not as in that elder day. 
From out the nearing Heaven Jesus comes 
'To break the spell of long millenniums. 
He comes to make the long injustice right 
And to push back the shadows of the night. 
O shall we not the King in gladness greet 
And sit together at His sacred feet? 

"But shall we wait, O Christ of ancient power, 
Art Thou not needed on the earth this hour? 
Art Thou not here to bless the contrite heart, 
To cheer the cheerless — of our life a part? 
Yea, not alone as Thou didst one day come, 
Or as again in some millennium, 



AND FULL-ORBED 2^7 

But Thou art with us even to the end; 
Thy spirit molds, Thine attributes attend. 
To Thee alone we look to be our guide, 

helper of the weak, with us abide. 

The ages lie in ashes cold and gray 
Upon the moorlands, stretching far away 
Into the past where gaunt, against the sky, 
A cross once stood and raised its arms on high. 
Gone is the cross, and also gone are they 
Who saw the Master lifted up that day; 
Caiaphas sleeps, and Herod's bones are dust ; 
Judea's history is a thing of rust ; 
The arching skies shall pass, the earth decay — 
The words of Christ shall never pass away. 

Through the House of Revelation. 

First, with the Holy Spirit as my guide, 

The portico of Genesis I tried ; 

On to the great art gallery I went — 

The gallery of the Old Testament, 

Where portraits of Elijah, Daniel — all 

The famous prophets — ^hung upon the wall ; 

Next through the music-room in every Psalm, 

The Spirit swept the key-board ; all I am 

Responded to the weeping prophet, and 

To David's harp, exultant lofty grand. 

1 stepped into the audience room, anon. 

And there with Matthew, Mark, and Luke and 

John, 
I caught a vision of the heavenly King; 



258 FOURSQUARE 

And in the Acts I saw the Spirit bring 
Together those who formed His church ; again 
Seated beside a desk with ink and pen, 
Werre those evangelists ; there I saw Paul, 
James, Jude and Peter, writing to us all. 
The room of Revelations then I passed, 
And saw the King upon His throne at last. 

D D n 
n n 



SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS. 
The Martyr of the Amphitheatre. 

The Rome of Diocletian, passed away. 
And the new faith above the submerged levels lay ; 
Yet in the circus low-browed thousands swarmed, 
And cheered the onset, and for victims stormed. 
The games were set, the swordsmen stood arrayed, 
When the monk Telemachus beating down each 

blade, 
Forth from the benches to the arena sprang; 
Stoned by the furious mob, while fierce cries 

rang ; 
The brave monk died, the sand stained with his 

gore; 
Rome wept, and saw those bloody games no more. 

In the Fires of Martyrdom. 

Bluff Latimer, brave, honest and robust. 
Who had a charge to keep, a sacred trust. 



AND FULL-ORBED 259 

A mission and a work that must be wrought, 
Cared not for what the court or courtiers thought, 
And met unblenched King Henry's awful frown — 
Looking beyond to a thorn-twisted crown, 
When at the stake, the flames wreathed round his 

head, 
Said: ''Brother, this light will o'er England 

spread." 
Thus persecution's baleful pyre became 
Truth's dayspring and a Pentecostal flame. 

The Saint of the Desert. 

The world is cruel, in the slough of sin; 

In the hot race of life the vilest win. 

And power wrings tribute from the poor man's 

need; 
Then what is left is shared by craft and greed; 
O God, thou knowest I would be pure, 
And I can pray, shun sin, and much endure; 
But man is cruel and I am not strong 
To cope with savagery and combat wrong. 
Eager am I my trembling soul to save. 
So, far from men I'll hide in desert cave. 

The Knight Errant. 

The world is full of sin ; the gates of hell 

Now spread confusion and the discord swell. 

As the millennium foretold draws near; 

So timid souls creep palsied with base fear. 

But why stand I braced with this stalwart brawn, 

But to make battle with the infernal spawn, 

And with a heart robust as solid oak. 



26o FOURSQUARE 

To stand between them and His "common iolk" ? 
Therefore to God and man what e'er my fate; 
My sword, my strength, my life I dedicate. 

The Cloisterer. 

The great world seethes; men fight for gold or 

power ; 
Sin stalks abroad, or shames the lady's bower; 
In vain we look to find the happy spot 
Where righteousness prevails and sin is not. 
Here in these sheltered walls I quiet find, 
And join in psalmody with joyous mind, 
Or listen to our stately abbot's talk, 
As peacefully I pace the shaded walk; 
Or, that Christ's gospel some poor soul may reach, 
What things I know, I humbly, gladly teach. 

The Worker in the Slums. 

Have pity dear Christ on the sons of men ; 
The wolf hath his lair, the bear hath his den. 
And the conies hide in the holes of the rocks; 
But the shelter of home is denied to thy flocks 
Who huddle and slink in the filth of the mire. 
Whose sons pass to Moloch through torture and 

fire. 
O Jesus, one soul for thee I would win; 
O Brother, come forth from the cesspool of sin ; 
Thou canst not? Thou canst, if thou only wilt try, 
For the Lord is not deaf to the penitent's sigh. 

The Reformer. 

Long centuries of dogma had o'erpast, 

And saints had come and gone, and now at last 



AND FULL-ORBED 261 

Religion cloaked conventionality; 

The church was sunk in forni — a living lie, 

And England's easy ethics, futile thought, 

Deemed poor humanity a thing of naught, 

But underneath the rotten thin veneer. 

When all seemed lost, 'twas then Ithuriel's spear 

In Wesley's hands unmasked hell's potentate, 

And warmed to life men's hearts grown cold with 

hate. 

The Missionary. 

On the further verge of the vast round world. 
In the waste of waters, on its bosom impearled,. 
Lie dreamy isles, where strong blasts rave; 
For a myriad years they had been the grave 
Of races forgotten, unshriven, unblest; 
But a hero went forth, with the cross, on his quest ; 
He planted the blistered, blood-stained rood ; 
It grew and spread, and the storms withstood; 
Though the tempests fell, his toil did not cease 
Till the Lord, through martyrdom, gave release. 

The Preacher. 

O mighty preacher, heretic or saint. 

In bold attempts the ways of God to paint. 

How hast thy spirit risen to height sublime, 

O'erleaping the strong fence of space and time. 

And lif test high thy soul above the fog 

Of creed and ritual, and the Cimmerian bog? 

Such strength is given by Him who knows all 

hearts. 
To see things as they are — in whole, not parts — 
Hath thus endowed thee with the prescience rare 
Of those who feel the Master's special care. 



2^2 FOURSQUARE 

The Pastor. 

For fourscore years he trod this mortal earth; 
Men loved him for his genius and worth, 
And freely gave him honest meed of praise ; 
And thus he rounded out his length of days 
In usefulness and honor. So he became 
The guide of lost souls, in his Master's name ; 
Willing to bear his cross ; his words went wide, 
And as he told how Jesus lived and died. 
On seraph's pinions his rapt spirit soared. 
And o'er the world its holy influence poured. 

The Saints of Today. 

We are encompassed in our daily round 

By those in whose pure, trustful hearts abound 

Faith, hope and love — a vast and mighty throng, 

A cloud of witnesses, whose soul the song 

Of praise to God utter without a sound; 

Whose proof of faith in secret alms is found, 

The sacrifice claimed by the King of Kings ; 

Whose instant prayers ascend on noiseless wings. 

No outward sign of holiness adorns 

Their brow; no crown of gems — nor even thorns. 



AND FULL-ORBED 263 

OTHER SHEEP OF HIS FOLD. 

Pythagoras. 

In the dim immemorial dust of the eld, 

With presence majestic, and form unexcelled. 

Is Pythagoras, who of wisdom had much; 

I say, as the hem of his raiment I touch, 

By some strange emotion prepotent impelled; 

Teach me, if thou hast in silence withheld 

Some part of thy wisdom. Says he: Man is blind; 

But nature is justly and wisely designed; 

Man is deaf to its rhythm, but there is a cure ; 

And its harmony sounds in the ears of the pure. 

Socrates. 

In early Hellas clear as crystal wave, 

Whether in idle sport or discourse grave, 

Its thought ran riot, or beyond the ken 

Of worshipers of idols of the den, 

The strong-winged soul found in its flight no halt, 

But to the empyreal sphere soared in assault. 

But Socrates through myth and mystery saw. 

Though veiled, the Maker in unchanging Law; 

Beheld the truth in which for God he sought. 

And won the crown for which his soul had 

wrought. 
O Socrates condemned to death, go free; 
Thy prison gates tonight unbarred shall be ; 
Walk forth and in some happier clime thy fame 
Will blossom yet free from detraction's blame. 
Nay friends ; there came into my soul a Voice 
That placed the common welfare first. No choice 



264 FOURSQUARE 

Is left. For me the hemlock cup to take 
Is better far than Athens' law to break. 
A threadbare cloak, alas, a biting tongue. 
The honeyed sarcasm of a bee that stung, 
The arguments that puzzle to deceive, 
The snares that crafty questions interweave! 
And yet O Socrates, how wise men hung 
Upon thy words, those precious jewels flung 
Unto a swinish crowd. Our souls it grieves 
The vanished past so small a remnant leaves — 
Yet leaves this legacy: That thou wouldst die 
To share with just men immortality. 

Scipio. 

The ceremonial forms and ancient rites. 
By seers made, the portent that affrights. 
The ghost of which the soldier is afraid, 
The pomp of superstitious masquerade, 
Are passing dreams to Scipio, who delights 
To climb where calm Philosophy invites. 
To loftier summits still thy soul shall rise, 
Free from all fear; if not with mortal eyes, 
Thy clement soul in search of truth shall see 
Three golden steps: To Know, To Do, To Be. 

Julius Caesar. 

His was a mind that grasped the whole of life ; 
That gazed with equal brow on calm and strife ; 
Gleaned what the past bequeathed, yet seized the 

new. 
And saw the ages march in grand review; 
The stern republic of an earlier day, 
Rent into fragments, mouldering to decay. 
Still felt the thirst to combat and subdue : 



AND FULL-ORBED 265 

Across the muniments of time he drew 
Into his sovereign hand all that was old, 
And bade a new world from the old unfold. 

Cicero. 

When martial Rome had stretched her conquering 

sword 
Where once ancestral gods had been adored, 
Then o'er the land Philosophy held sway; 
Stoic and epicurean had his say, 
And in the clash of tongues each felt assured — 
Great Tully looked on smiling, and endured 
Until his patience was outworn, and then 
He grasped the problem old 'twixt gods and men, 
With mental sinews trained in every school, 
And found in Nature that one God must rule. 

Seneca. 

Offspring of intellect and virtuous thought. 

Desiring most the things that good men ought — 

Possessing all things that men seek or prize, 

Was Fortune's favorite, Seneca the wise. 

He kept his steadfast eye on virtue's gate, 

Yet by the cruel irony of fate. 

He dared not enter it beyond retreat, 

Where murder foul watched his advancing feet. 

His nerveless hand to cope with evil tried — 

But lacking strength to greatly live, he died. 

Epictetus. 

Slave of the slave of that still baser slave, 
Nero, in whose foul breast as in a grave, 



266 FOURSQUARE 

Festered all infamies born of a throne, 

One Epictetus, a poor cripple, shone 

Upon a darkened world as shines a star — 

Pointed in silence to his scourge and scar. 

And spoke to fainting hearts : Who would be strong 

Must learn to suffer and to do no wrong. 

His words, his life to men a lesson gave 

That made Aurelius pattern on a slave. 

Marcus Aurelius. 

Victorious Rome had crystalized the world 
Into an empire. Genius was whirled 
With madness and untrammeled masterhood, 
And evil sat enthroned, nor any could 
Withstand or stem corruption's poisonous tide. 
'Twas then imperial youth, self-centered, truly 

great. 
Did make philosophy his bride, the state 
His constant care — ^but yet in twilight groped, 
While slaves attained what Marcus only hoped. 

Columbus. 

What seer can tell where mighty thoughts are born? 

The cot the proud pass with a glance of scorn, 

In afterdays becomes a hallowed spot 

Where pilgrim feet resort; while soon forgot 

Is imperial grandeur, in oblivion's pall. 

The grave's black bondage makes of wealth a 

thrall. 
Columbus nurtured near the weaver's beam, 
Saw floods of light upon his spirit stream; 
Through work and zeal the vision large unfurled 



AND FULL-ORBED 267 

That gave mankind and him a second world. 
Although not quite a saint, not canonized, 
Grand Christopher ! the things thy soul most prized, 
The two worlds that made up thy life-long dream, 
Are commonplace and trite, as men now deem: 
The young world that thy caravels explored — 
The world unseen wherein thy spirit soared. 
But who showed stouter heart, in want or fray, 
To find through mirk and doubt, at last a way — 
With fortitude the stings of fate to bear. 
Till heaven made answer to thy toil and prayer. 

D n n 

n n 

n 



THE CALL. 

From many lands a Macedonian call, 

A millionfold more loud than came to Paul 

At Troas comes to us: "Behold our plight! 

Have pity on our blindness, send us light ! 

And as the light we now begin to see, 

Do visit us and bring us liberty !" 

It is our privilege to hear the call 

And to respond ; and, as Christ died for all, 

We will not wait to ask how long 'twill be 

Ere we can say we've gained the victory; 

But faithful unto him who bids us go, 

We'll bear the banner: He His plans will show. 

We take not time to estimate the cost — 



268 FOURSQUARE 

So many souls, for whom He died, are lost! 

Responding to that call across the sea 

With willing hearts, what shall the answer be? 

With China saved, her people at the cross, 

Idolatry will tremble at the loss; 

Right onward press, and hasten to the field; 

The Lord will guide, ne'er for a moment yield, 

Till victory! The clouds have rolled away. 

Bright angels from the East proclaim the day. 

Rejoice and sing! Let all the nations sing! 

The Orient brings treasures to our King; 

The enemy is forced from field to field ; 

The world belongs to Christ; the foe shall yield. 



